


Family Business

by lori (zakhad)



Series: Captain and Counselor [33]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: F/M, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-27
Updated: 2009-12-27
Packaged: 2017-10-05 08:44:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zakhad/pseuds/lori
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Families, friends, and a few missing ensigns. And a time traveling guy, who used to be an ensign.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Family Business

Natalia watched the watchers. In the club, dark but for the glow strips around the dance floor and the flicker of artificial green candles on the tiny tables intimately huddled in every available space, she could hardly make out details of clothing, but she could see faces. The pallid green glow tended to cast shadows wherever possible and add a sinister look.

Or perhaps some were as sinister as they appeared. She kept an eye on one older man who mercilessly hit on a young woman Natalia recognized --the abundance of bright red curls, a broad eager smile, and an openness in the face weren't easy to forget. The woman had been in a group of cadets disembarking from a transport earlier in the day. Natalia had been on the way back to the _Enterprise_ from meeting friends for lunch and crossed paths with the throng of pipless soon-to-be officers.

Natalia sidled closer through the press of seated and standing clientele and reached the woman. While standing with back turned, she waved at someone she knew on the dance floor and studied a menu on the face of an automated servitor.

"My ship is in orbit," the man was telling the cadet. "She's probably not much by 'fleeter standards, but if you'd like to see her I'd be happy to give you the tour."

"What's her name?" The cadet had to shout to be heard over the throb of the music, something alien with an atonal accompaniment and a faster beat than felt natural to Natalia.

"The _Bighratt_."

Natalia turned around. "Are you Nico?"

The trader studied her--he wouldn't see anything other than a thin woman, about the same age as the one he'd been talking to but plainer of face and six inches taller. Natalia had succumbed to the guidance of friends and picked up a few atypically-daring outfits; she wore a black, uncomfortably-short one that Liann had insisted looked great on her.

"I heard there was a trader named Nico who had a ship called _Bighratt_. Or maybe he was a big rat. I don't remember, I was a little out of it," Natalia exclaimed, shrugging and grinning vacuously. "Anyway, a tour sounds like fun to me. We 'fleeters don't often get to see the privately-owned vessels. Right?"

The cadet stared askance at her and seemed annoyed at the intrusion. The trader, however, backed a step and studied her anew. "You saying she's 'fleet?" He tipped his head in the cadet's direction.

"Yep. A lot of people here tonight are. Do you always put the moves on cadets? Seems like a dangerous thing to do."

Someone bumped Nico from behind. He recovered without looking or acknowledging the muttered apology. A beeping undercut the noise around them; he pulled out the hand he'd kept in one pocket of his jacket and glanced at an object concealed in his palm. "Got to go. Sorry."

The cadet gaped until the man was gone. "Who do you think you are?" she demanded over the cacophony of a high point in the music.

"Lieutenant Greenman, security, the _Enterprise_. Nico was convicted of smuggling once, during the war. Thought you might like to know."

"How do you know that?" the cadet exclaimed sourly.

"Just something I heard. My ship's been here a month for repairs. You hear stuff."

The cadet looked around, wrinkled her nose, and turned to go. "This place isn't so great anyway. See you."

Natalia sniffed. It wasn't as though she'd had high hopes of meeting a new best friend or anything, but the woman's disdain and departure disappointed her. Glancing around, she headed for the exit herself. This place wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Brian hadn't ever shown up and she wasn't into dancing alone, so she wrote it off and decided to find someplace quieter.

She passed a few scattered pedestrians. The dance club was tucked away in a dead-end corridor off the beaten path. Rounding a corner into a main corridor, she caught a glimpse of the cadet fleeing to her right, and turned left to find someone familiar coming toward her.

"Wesley?"

He stopped, confused. A quick jog brought her up to him. "Do I know you?" he asked.

"Sure, you don't remember Telix?"

He shook his head and smiled ruefully. "Nope. But I think I can explain that. Do I look younger to you?"

"Maybe a little." He looked pretty good, actually. His hair was shorter than she remembered, and he seemed thinner, though that may have been the clothes--a dark blazer over a white shirt and tapered-leg pants tucked into boots.

"You met an older version of me. I'm a Traveler."

"What's that mean?"

"It's a long story. Maybe I'll tell you, if I ever figure out your name."

"Oh--sorry, Lieutenant Natalia Greenman. I've met your mother and her friends. I'm also the helm officer on the _Enterprise_."

"No kidding?" Wesley grinned. "I used to do that. I'm looking for my mom, actually, and I just got here--I'd like to get to know you but I should find Mom first."

"I know where she is--they're having a party aboard the _Enterprise_, for Captain Riker because he's getting married in a few days. Captain Picard asked me to babysit but I had a date. Not that Brian showed up--jerk. I'd have had more fun with the baby."

"Slow down," Wesley exclaimed, holding up a hand as if overwhelmed. "Something tells me there've been a few changes. Babysitting? The last time I talked to Mom, Will Riker was still a commander and Captain Picard didn't have kids."

"It's a long story. Maybe I'll tell you, if you buy me a drink."

~^~^~^~^~^~

"I think I've made a bad mistake," Bell announced softly.

Beverly sipped her drink. The alcohol was real, the other chemicals in the beverage combined with it to make a real tonsil-burner, but she'd seen Tom knock one of these things back without turning a hair. If she didn't know better, she'd think he wasn't human.

"How so?" she asked. "Having second thoughts?"

"About the marriage, no. Just the wedding." Bell swallowed nervously and studied her own glass. "We wanted to do this now, with all our friends here, before you all have to go separate ways. I sent off a comm to my mother in the giddiness of the moment, and before I knew it, she scheduled a family excursion."

"Excursion," Beverly echoed. "You mean to the wedding?"

"My older brother, my younger sister, and my mother arrived this morning. They were the only ones who could come on short notice."

"So where are they? Everyone else is here." Meaning almost everyone Starfleet who would be at the wedding. Worf, the best man, sat with Ward Carlisle and Data in a back corner, scowling disapproval of the tameness of the 'celebration.' Will and Tom were at the bar, where they'd been chatting about fishing, of all things. And of course, Deanna and Jean-Luc, she sitting on a barstool against the wall at the end of the bar, back turned to Worf and his companions, he standing with one hand on the dark lacquered wood countertop and the other gesturing as he spoke. Deanna smiled down at him, then unexpectedly leaned forward as if about to push his nose into her cleavage. She kissed his cheek and lingered to whisper something to him, eyes lidded, and their body language was such that it was a sure bet they'd forgotten where they were.

"Is it wrong," Bell began, getting Beverly's attention, "to be jealous of that?"

"Of what part of that?"

"The focus. Two years later and they still get lost in each other."

Beverly glanced at Tom. "It's not wrong. But it's just their way, Jean-Luc's always had intense focus--plus I think he's been trying very hard to lift her spirits. She's been so down in the mouth since the Briar Patch."

"She seems better, but she looks as tired as I feel." Bell sipped thoughtfully, pulling electric blue and green liquid through her straw from the bottom of her tall glass. "Recovering from surgery and regenerative therapy to cure the cancer, maybe. Or is it the baby? What's it like to have a baby?"

"Do I hear thoughts of motherhood?"

"Will wants children. Have you seen him hold Yves?" She shoved aside the empty glass. "He changes. I can tell what he's thinking about."

"I'd think you would know what caring for a baby is all about. Haven't you taken a turn through the nursery in all that time at the hospital?"

"That's different. I left them in the nursery and went home. I mean what's it like to actually have a baby. Nine months is a long time to suffer swollen ankles and odd cravings. Did you ever resent it?"

Beverly knew what she meant. "I didn't suffer so much with Wes. I've seen women in tears, as you probably have, hating their husband all through labor and kicking and screaming--I've also seen women who hardly stopped smiling through a twenty hour labor. Everyone reacts differently, in all stages."

"Deanna was frightening during her pregnancy." Bell glanced again at their friends. Jean-Luc had taken a stool and now sat knee to knee with Deanna; Will and Tom watched the two from further down the bar. "So moody, so not herself."

"I wondered if empathy would compound the mood swings. Apparently it did."

"I suppose the only way to find out what I would be like is to try it."

"I suppose."

"Have you ever thought of having another?"

"Thinking and deciding to do it are two different things. I'm too. . . ." Beverly glanced at Bell, trying to remember her age.

"Old? As opposed to me, I suppose? Women are having children in their fifties and sixties, you know."

"I'm not talking about other women. I'm talking about me. I don't feel up to it."

Bell sighed, mouth twisting in a grimace. "I think we're all feeling off, frankly. Will hasn't been quite the same since the Briar Patch."

"None of us has been the same." Especially me, Beverly thought. Especially Tom. She glanced over and caught Tom in the process of glancing at her; he mistook her expression and left Riker at the bar. She watched him stroll over and retake the chair to her left, moving in that lazy, confident way of his. He touched her shoulder, her arm, her elbow, and left his free hand draped over hers on the table between them.

"Now, what could possibly lure you away from so much alcohol?" she asked.

"There's a woman." He set down the glass of ale and scratched his mustache.

"You shouldn't look at Bell that way, she's getting married in a couple days."

Tom leaned closer. "Bell who?" he murmured, not smiling, peering through those lovely thick blond lashes of his. It caught her off guard, again. He'd been so serious since they'd gotten back from DS9.

"Oh, get a room," Bell remarked, smirking at them. "I don't know why we even tried to do this. Everyone's so distracted."

"Geordi's not here, either," Will commented, joining them. He sat down between Tom and Bell, taking her hand.

"He's doing me a favor," Deanna said. She and Jean-Luc had noticed the movement and came to fill the last two spots at the table. Unlike the others, they kept their hands to themselves. She'd been dressing more like her old self, in short or tight or low-cut off-duty outfits. Tonight's was no different. Teal tights, under a tailored black tunic with long triangular panels in teal, hugging a petite and shapely body. Granted, she'd gained a few inches all the way around since the first time Beverly had seen her in off-duty garb, but Deanna still looked young enough to be Jean-Luc's daughter. Of course, she really was young enough to be, not that it mattered to anyone.

No, it had mattered to Beverly. For some reason, her first thoughts upon noticing Deanna's preoccupation with their captain were of their ages, how far apart they were. It had reminded her of her own age. How unsettling, that she would think that way.

Will commented on how tired Deanna looked, and while she responded with the baby excuse, Beverly watched her friends, keeping her eyes moving from one to the next so she wouldn't be caught staring. Jean-Luc caught her. Holding her gaze with his questioning eyes, he tilted his head and leaned away from her.

"Is something wrong, Beverly?" Deanna asked.

"No. I guess I'm a little tired myself. Lora kept us up late last night--we were playing a game with her and the other children aboard, something called psychologist."

"A game called psychologist?"

"Yes, well, it's a kind of puzzle game. What you do is send one person out of the room, then everyone else comes up with a scenario or scenarios, and when the person comes back in he has to ask simple yes or no questions to deduce the identities of everyone in the room."

"Let's say for example that we sent Bell out," Tom continued when everyone else looked confused. "Let's say we decided that everyone who's sitting down were Romulans, everyone who's standing up were beer bottles. Bell would come back in and start asking each person basic questions--inanimate objects or not, sentient or not, one color or variegated, larger than a chair, furry or scaly, and so forth. She'd have to keep asking questions of each person until she figured out the patterns at work. At any time, the person being asked the question can say 'psychologist' and then everyone moves around the room--some people who were sitting stand up, some who were standing sit down, and some just move to sit or stand in a different place. And then Bell would start over, until she could get the pattern right and solve the puzzle."

"There are so many variables it's almost a nightmare," Beverly said. She grinned at Jean-Luc. "I'll bet even Dixon Hill would have trouble with it. The more people you have, the more complicated it can get."

"I'm not in the mood," Jean-Luc said, more curt than usual. He seemed to realize it and hung his head, then turned to Deanna. "You should be in bed. It's late."

"I'm tired, but you're projecting--you're more tired than I am. And this party isn't enough to keep either of us awake."

Tom rolled his eyes. "You want to come to the bachelor party tomorrow night? Worf and I have a grand occasion planned."

Deanna shook her head. "I've heard about those. I think I'd rather do the Klingon version."

"I went to one, once upon a time," Bell said. "I made quite an impression tripping over my own feet while dancing on a table."

"You didn't tell me you had a career in table-dancing," Will exclaimed, eyeing his bride with an evil grin.

"You didn't ask," Bell shot back, grinning just as evilly.

"Get a room," Beverly threw in.

That turned out to be prophetic. Within half an hour, the dying party officially disbanded.

~^~^~^~^~^~

Jean-Luc came in first, to find Lwaxana standing in the middle of the room holding her screaming grandson. He took Yves from her and walked him around the room. One circuit and the baby quieted to residual gasping wails.

Lwaxana crossed her arms. "Well, really."

"Mother," Deanna cajoled wearily. "Thank you for staying with him."

"I appreciate the opportunity to spend the time with him, but I do wish he'd stop crying. If I didn't know better, I'd wonder if Jean-Luc hadn't told him to do it, just to be difficult."

"You know I can't, and I wouldn't if I could." Jean-Luc passed the snuffling baby to Deanna. "Where's Homn?"

"I let him go off to bed some time ago. All the crying upset him. Dear, why aren't you breastfeeding him?"

Deanna turned from the replicator with a bottle. "I can't. We. . . I was exposed to a particular kind of radiation on the last mission that affected my hormones, which in turn affected my milk production. It's actually better that I'm not, considering how many people will be taking care of him."

"It's not better--breastfeeding is better for--"

"Lwaxana," Jean-Luc cut in, hoping to avoid further contention. She glanced at him and relented. Their uneasy truce, founded on the premise that Deanna needed their unified support, still held. "Thank you for babysitting. We'll see you in the morning."

She didn't like dismissal, but smiled anyway and kissed Deanna and then the baby on the cheek before marching out.

"What's Geordi doing for you?" He'd been almost afraid to ask during the party.

"Come on, I'll show you."

She led him out, still carrying Yves, and some minutes later they entered the main shuttle bay. The normal complement of shuttles had been moved aside or taken elsewhere; a small ship took up almost two-thirds of the bay. A very ungainly, ugly little ship--roughly cylindrical, with a wedge jutting forward from the top and a longer, narrower cylinder attached behind at a right angle. It sat on four extended feet and two nacelles marked the sides as such. She was painted a silvery blue with patches of gray where hull plates had been replaced; the registry was painted in black, and in Betazoid lettering, along the lower edge of the main cylinder.

"What the hell?" he exclaimed. The words echoed around the bay.

Deanna walked around the ship to the other side. He followed. On the port side the registry was printed in Standard--BCV -349213, _Flying Fish_.

"Deanna," he growled, demanding an explanation.

"Betazoid civilian vessel, _Flying Fish_. It's a wreck. The interior is a mess, the computer barely functional, the warp drive needs work. A perfect project for a bunch of fledgling engineers who want to experiment and can't do so with Starfleet equipment. That's what I told Admiral Ross--he gave me permission to keep it for that reason, after I explained what Geordi wanted to do with it."

She walked up a ramp, leaving him to gape speechless at this turn of events. After braving a narrow, dark corridor full of open panels and unidentifiable debris, he found her with Geordi in a round room full of storage containers and odd objects.

"Hi, Captain," Geordi said, then turned back to Deanna. "Anyhow, we've made good progress on the list of components needed and Batris thinks he knows where we can track some of the parts down. We'll be able to scrounge some of it here at starbase, but the computer is an older model and the relays will be tough to track down. Unless we can talk you into an upgrade?"

"Make that part of the research. Availability of spare parts versus a complete upgrade." Deanna smiled at Jean-Luc. "She's a limping fish, at the moment."

"Shouldn't you have asked the captain of the ship before putting this wreck in our shuttle bay?"

"Don't snap, Jean-Luc. You'll appreciate this."

"Sir, I didn't know she hadn't told you," Geordi blurted.

"Relax, Geordi, it's my responsibility," Deanna said. "We were discussing ships and repairing them, and theoretical modifications to basic components."

"So you got a derelict to experiment on?"

"I'll talk to you later, Geordi." Deanna waited for the relieved engineer to depart, moving Yves to her other arm and stepping lightly among the scattered bits and pieces on the floor. "I wanted something that wasn't Starfleet. I wanted something we could modify to suit ourselves. I will have Geordi upgrade the computer, and I'll also be asking Tom for help in renovating the Fish's systems. I want this to be independent of the _Enterprise_ so we can be certain the Section isn't monitoring it."

Jean-Luc took a minute to think about that. "You think we're being monitored by the Section."

"I asked Tom to check our quarters while you were on duty today. He found one device. Inactive, but that means nothing. It could be active too easily." Deanna sat on an oblong green carton. "I have something to tell you. I would have told you before now, but I couldn't be sure of your reaction and I didn't want to risk giving away what I know."

"What do you know?" he said quietly.

Her mouth pulled thin, a not-quite wince. While she busied herself with the baby, who had fallen asleep and didn't wake in spite of her fussing with his clothing, she explained.

"They blackmailed Tom into lying about the Section. They aren't being disbanded as he said. They blackmailed me into saying nothing about his lie, and to push Beverly to stay with him."

In the attempt to remain calm, he paced a winding path through debris and packing cases. "You should have told me."

"And you would have reacted--"

"They threatened you!"

"--and they would have killed you, and our son," she finished, the tears barely kept in check but audible. "They would have killed Beverly and Tom. One of their agents came to me in the middle of the night--you didn't wake up. He held a weapon to my throat and told me what to do. He didn't use the door, and he wasn't a hologram. He got in and out of our bedroom without an alert from the computer--our own computer, that should have detected an unauthorized transport and alerted the bridge, who should have alerted us. I checked the logs. I had Geordi check deeper in the computer for traces. There are none. They can come and go as they please on Federation vessels with no record of their presence, Jean-Luc, and I don't like that."

"What makes this ship any different? Why talk here?" he spat, coming around to complete a full circuit of the room. Their words echoed from the dull gray walls unevenly.

"Geordi just brought it in. It was towed here from Betazed, where repairs were made to the hull to make it space-worthy--"

"It really was a derelict. You bought a wreck."

"Yes. To justify keeping it aboard, it had to have an official benefit--and since it is ours, we can let Geordi put whatever equipment is needed to keep it private. This is a learning tool for cadets, a testing ground for some of the experiments Geordi has wanted to conduct but never could because they would alter our systems 'unnecessarily'. The Section may be able to bypass Starfleet computer systems, but they won't get on this ship. Part of the experiment is to make this ship Starfleet-proof. Since the Section uses Starfleet resources, it'll be Section-proof."

He came around again and stood over her. She clutched Yves to her chest, eyes trembling with the tears of anger and pain she wouldn't let free, and met his gaze unflinchingly.

"This is sanctioned," he said.

"The admiral thought it was a unique approach to pre-emptive planning. Engineers do some similar testing at Utopia while designing ships, but no one's redesigned a vessel specifically for that purpose. Our experience in the Briar Patch was a good platform from which I could lobby for this--Ross thought it was an interesting idea. I'll show you the outline for the entire project."

"You've thought this through."

"I had to."

"We could have done this together, you know."

"I have a commanding officer who's hard to impress and harder to live up to. I had nowhere to discuss it with you safely, either."

He sat next to her and ran a hand over his head. "You should have said something instead of letting me think your moodiness was because of health issues, or work, or. . . ."

"You?" She tucked her hand through his arm. "I'm sorry. That was the worst part. I wanted to tell you but I was afraid -- "

"Hush." Pulling her into his arms, careful of the sleeping child, he pressed his cheek against her scalp. "Hush, now."

Yves fussing put an end to sitting quietly. He let go, watched her soothe the baby, and stood with her. "He needs changing," she said.

As they left the vessel, he looked back at it. "Flying Barrel would be more accurate."

"Gracefulness and agility come in odd-shaped packages, in space." She patted Yves' back, punctuating his warm-up wail. "Don't they, Jean-Fish?"

It sounded like one of her roundabout teases. She sensed his reaction and turned in mid-step at the bottom of the ramp to respond, but he forced a chuckle. "They do indeed."

It hadn't been enough. She changed subjects, abandoning the tease. "Mother said she wants to stay longer."

"She does realize we won't be here much longer, doesn't she?"

"Homn found a transport that will be close enough to our next destination that she could book passage--it would allow her another week. You don't mind?"

"Of course not."

Deanna concentrated on pacifying Yves the rest of the way back to quarters, especially since he cried in earnest in the lift and on the short walk to their door. She hurried into the nursery at once. Jean-Luc went the other direction, to their bedroom, and began taking off his shirt. By the time Deanna came in, he had put it back on again.

"What's wrong?"

"There's something I need to do." He went to her, took her hands, and looked at her stained shirt. Either she'd neglected a shoulder cloth while burping the baby or Yves had unexpectedly fountained on her. It told him he'd been lost in thought for longer than he'd guessed--a diaper change, a feeding, and putting Yves down for the night would have taken more than a few minutes.

"This late? Please don't go. Talk to me."

He shook his head, more at himself than at her, swallowing hard. "Not yet. I'll be back in a while."

"You can be angry at me, Jean. Don't distance yourself from me. We've argued before, it's not going to damage our relationship if you voice your anger--"

"No. Not. . . ." He couldn't look at her. Shook his head again, curtly. "Not yet. In the morning. I'm just going for a walk."

He could feel her gaze as he left, but she didn't try to stop him again. The emotions he'd pushed aside earlier surged to the forefront in increments as he moved further from their quarters, until anger blossomed like his Maman's flower garden in spring, in all its blazing glory, as he stepped off the transporter on the _Venture_.

~^~^~^~^~

"It must've been neat, being a kid on the _Enterprise_," Natalia mused.

"For a while." Wesley shrugged. They were puttering along an observation area, avoiding most of the seats--there were quite a few people looking out at the ships currently in orbit.

Natalia pointed. "That one's Captain Shelby's. And that's the _Venture_ over there. I don't see the Klingons, they must be on the other side. I'm supposed to get a tour from Ambassador Worf tomorrow--want to come with me?"

"I don't know. Sounds like fun, but it depends on Mom. What do you think of Captain Glendenning?"

"Oh--he's someone you'd notice right away. Tall, and quick on his feet for his size. I think that's what gets your attention most, he's a really good dancer and it shows."

"That figures. Mom loves to dance. At least there's that. Does he have any kids?"

"Just Lora. She's seven. Really cute, too. Why were you so shocked when I told you about Captain Picard getting married?"

Wesley's smile turned cynical. "How long have you been aboard?"

"A couple years. I came aboard about the same time your mother left, which was some time after Captain Riker left. I was a cadet. God, that seems so long ago now. I see some of these cadets we're about to take on and I feel so different, they look young to me, and I'm not really that much older."

"I know the feeling," Wesley said bitterly.

She slowed, as did he, and they stopped in an open area between groupings of seats. "You aren't in Starfleet any more," she half-asked.

"I went through the Academy and graduated, but I quit shortly after to go traveling. Starfleet wasn't for me. I realized the only reason I was doing it was because I wanted to live up to everyone else's expectations."

Natalia thought about her father's happiness when she'd announced her intention to be an officer. "I can see how that would make for a lot of pressure. That's not why I'm in it, but I think I started out that way. My dad died at Wolf 359. I've always wanted to be a starship captain and that made him proud. My mom, on the other hand, would like nothing more than to convince me to come home."

"So why are you in Starfleet?"

"It's hard to explain." Natalia nodded toward a group of cadets sitting not far away. "I'm not that big-eyed any more, but it's exciting. There's so much to learn, so much exploration to do. The _Enterprise_ feels like home to me. Maybe that's the captain's fault. He's the closest thing to a father that I've had since I was thirteen. It's probably also Commander Troi's fault. Some of the ensigns call her Ship's Mother, and not just because of the baby. I swear, sometimes when she gives orders in a tense situation I have flashbacks to being six and wandering too close to the edge of the docks--Mom could knock over innocent bystanders with her voice when she was upset."

"I remember that voice. My mom has it, too." Wesley sniffed. "Hard to imagine the captain at ease with fatherhood--I had to twist Mom's arm to get her to take me to the bridge because he'd made it off limits to kids. He almost shouted at us. Does he still do the almost-shout?"

"Sure. I think he bluffs a lot, though. He does the almost-shout and if I don't back down he does an almost-smile-but-frowning, and if I tease him he growls about making me clean the hull with a toothbrush. Deanna smiles while he does it, even if he shouts at her."

He glanced out at the nearest ship. Yep, still uncomfortable about it--but why? "Why would he shout at her?"

"They fight sometimes."

"I can't imagine. . . . Hey, would you mind giving me a tour? I don't think I've been aboard this _Enterprise_. The last time I saw Mom was on Earth after the last one was destroyed."

She knew he was seeking distraction, but she was ready for one. Hopefully he'd stop talking about his mother and the captain, and start talking about himself, or asking her questions. "Sure, let's go."

They cut through a side corridor that took them off the beaten path. In a junction of three corridors, Wesley hesitated.

"Did you hear something?"

Natalia did--a moan. They took the next right down a narrower corridor, following the second moan, and found the source of the sound with the third.

It was the auburn-haired cadet from the dance club. Natalia dropped to her knees and rolled her over, then fumbled at her chest, but she'd left her communicator in her quarters. "We need to get her to sickbay--I'll go for help."

"Run, she looks bad." Wesley pulled off his jacket and folded it to put beneath her head.

Natalia ran. The first person with a comm badge she ran across, she skidded to a halt and requested his assistance. It took forever, but a medical team and her comm badge volunteer went back with her.

Both Wesley and the girl were gone.

Natalia stared at the spot. "She was bleeding," she stammered. A tech ran a tricorder over the floor and even the walls.

"What's your current assignment, Lieutenant?" the highest-ranking officer present asked.

"The _Enterprise_. Flight control officer," she responded automatically. "I can't believe. . . it must have been a transporter, or, or. . . . What? She was here! She looked like someone fileted her!"

The tech shook his head. "Clean." He held out the tricorder.

Natalia searched the floor frantically once more. No trace of anything--no blood, no sign of Wesley.

"I need to find my commanding officer," she exclaimed.

The lieutenant-commander smirked. "Oh, don't worry about that. Who is your direct supervisor?"

"I told you, I'm the FCO. The captain and the first officer."

"Let's go, then."

~^~^~^~^~^~

Beverly fought him off, laughing. "Tom -- "

"Dance with me. Come on."

"I'm tired!" She trapped his hands against his chest. "I'm going to get ready for bed. You just save your energy."

"For?" He batted his eyelashes at her and grinned.

"I had a tennis court put up in the bedroom."

"Right. I'll bring my racquet and balls."

She laughed and shoved him. "You could make a systems status report sound like innuendo."

"What's in-ewe-endo? Some sheepish martial art?" He sat at his desk along the far wall.

"Only the way you do it, pumpkin head." She left him to whatever he was planning to do. He could be such a big talker. From his expression, he was almost as tired as she was, and would probably collapse into bed with her when he was done checking messages. At least Lora had gone right to bed tonight, unlike last night, when she'd been tired but hyperactive. They might get to bed at a decent hour.

Beverly checked the time after changing into nightwear and realized it was swiftly becoming an indecent hour. She turned for the door, but the chime of the annunciator sent her back for a robe. Who could be intruding so late at night? Ship's business would have resulted in a comm call, not this.

She came out just in time to see Jean-Luc striding in, radiating hostility. She froze--she'd seen him furious before, but why would he be here at this time of night to display it? Jean-Luc strode up to the desk, and for a few moments of suspended heartbeat and dropped chin, she thought he might actually strike Tom with one of his white-knuckled fists.

"Did you know?"

Tom flinched--anyone would, each word shot forth like a thrown blade, as only Captain Picard could manage--but rose to his full height to face whatever accusation the question represented. "Not until she told me, just today. I was as angry as you--I would have killed him, if I knew."

"I doubt very much you understand how angry I am," Jean-Luc said, in that quiet, deadly way he had when in the throes of righteous outrage. "Killed who? You know who's to blame for this?"

"I do now. She told me that, too. She figured it out. Verly, I think we need a round of coffee." Tom sent her a quick appeal in a glance. She bit back the questions burning on her tongue and went to the replicator. With her entry into the room, Jean-Luc's fists slowly unclenched. Perhaps that had been Tom's real reason for requesting coffee. Telling Jean-Luc she was there, so he would back down.

But his voice remained tight as a drum--a snare, with an airiness to vowels and a crispness to consonants that said he was annunciating too carefully, restricting himself from whatever measures he really wanted to take. His lip curled. "She told you--I suppose she also warned you that I would pay you a visit."

"If you want to beat the shit out of me, let's go. If it'll make you feel more like rational discussion afterward." Tom stepped around the desk, casual but collected. "I'll even ask the CMO to be on alert for afterward."

"Like hell," Beverly blurted at last. "If you two get in a scrape, you can find someone else to put you back together again. Sit down and take your coffee. Jean-Luc, why are you here?" They obeyed her rather than answer the question, she realized as they restlessly moved around and finally settled at opposite ends of the couch. She handed each of them a cup and sat between them with crossed arms. "Why are you here?" she repeated, glaring at Jean-Luc for not answering the first time.

"They've been spying on us," he spat. "They blackmailed Deanna. It's why she's been so off--it's not depression or moodiness, it's living under the threat of losing her family if she doesn't do as they told her to. They got into my quarters undetected, they threatened my wife, and apparently Starfleet is willing to look the other way!"

"You're catching on," Tom said. His weariness saved him from anything more than a furious glare, probably. "Welcome to my life. Always going forward in spite of, but always looking over your shoulder because. I never asked for any of it, either, y'know. It's entirely my father's fault either of us is in the middle of this. You had no way of knowing he's still alive and manipulative, or that he has Nechayev in his back pocket. She doesn't know it, either. She thinks she's keeping an eye on him but that's never the way it goes--nothing that seems real can be relied upon, when it comes to the Section. You also have no way of knowing her daughter's aboard your ship."

"I knew she had kids, but--" Beverly redirected herself at the sight of Jean-Luc's expression. "Who?"

"Maven." Jean-Luc put down his untouched coffee with such force that Beverly thought the cup might break on the coffee table. "No wonder I already can't stand her."

"And Cal's her brother," Tom added.

"Wait a minute." Beverly tucked her hair behind her ears and rubbed under her eyes, which were starting to feel fatigued. "Cal? As in, half-brother Cal who was your contact?"

"My half-brother, Maven's brother. No family of mine. Genetics do not family make, thank you very much. Maven's six months younger than me, so I guess I don't have to explain why I'd rather see her be anyone else's sister. She ended up in the same class at the Academy and made the mistake of assuming I'd feel a kinship to her, once she figured out who I was--which she did with no help from dear old dad. We met, had coffee, had the same study group, and while getting to know new friends the innocent Tom Glendenning of yesteryear confessed his origins. She didn't know anything about that, or the name. It was one of her friends in Medical and a purloined blood sample that did it. See, I've got certain physical similarities to Cal, and she couldn't believe it was coincidence, and Dad mentioned a prior life entailing children when he didn't know she could hear--she used to be so quick to explore possibilities, dear old Crystal, but lately she's settled into her mama's cast-iron footsteps."

"Merde," Jean-Luc murmured.

"Exactly." Tom raised his coffee in salute and sipped. "I was friends with her at the time, believe it or not, but she kept at me, and it wasn't the usual flirtatious stuff--she had a boyfriend and it made him crazy. I couldn't figure her out. Finally she confesses she's discovered we share genetic material and thinks of me as her big brother. I reacted badly at first but made up with her out of curiosity--my father was dead, and here she's convinced I'm one of her father's kids from a prior relationship, and she's all excited and thinking family reunion. She said she was changing her name and wanted my input. I suggested Maven for uniqueness. After all the legalities were over with and she'd already done it, I left her a note explaining what it meant. She never acknowledged it, never spoke to me again, but she kept the name."

"I don't care what her name is--is she also Section?"

Tom threw his arms wide. "Don't know. If she is, she's behaving in a convincingly anti-Section manner. She might be spying on her mama's behalf, but she might not."

"You're saying they blackmailed Deanna," Beverly said, trying to get him back on the original topic. All the talk about Maven had been a distraction to give Jean-Luc time to get over his anger. One of Tom's favorite tactics.

Tom's face darkened at the reiteration. "They did more than that. I don't like lying, but it was better than watching all of you suffer the consequences."

"You didn't tell me."

"I'd rather not have to point out that I'm striving to protect you, since you probably know that and don't care. Ignorance is bliss sometimes, and boy do I wish I were still ignorant."

Beverly tossed her head. "Excuse me for wanting to know what I'm getting into by staying."

Tom pleaded with his eyes, indicating Jean-Luc with a sideways glance, and looked into his coffee cup. Suddenly, an odd, silent change came over Jean-Luc--he stood, tugging at his shirt.

"I'm sorry for bursting in like this so late at night," he said, taking the first steps for the door. He paused to touch Beverly's shoulder; she looked up at him, met his sober eyes, and understood.

"It's all right," she murmured. "I can see why you would be upset. How is she?"

He blinked. Whatever it was he hid within that blink remained a mystery. "Fine. Better, now that she's talking about it. I'd better go home. She'll be worried if I'm gone too long."

He left without another word. Tom sighed noisily. "That wasn't as bad as I thought it might be. Glad you were here--he's too much of a gentleman to kill me with a lady present."

"What lady?"

"Aw, shit," he exclaimed, slumping. "I was going to tell you all about it. I just wanted to do it later, after--"

"No 'after' now, Tom. Just tell me all about it. I can't wait." She picked up Jean-Luc's untouched coffee. It was going to be a long night.

~^~^~^~^~^~

He knew before he reached the side of the bed what he'd find. In the half-light, she looked up at him, weary but awake, one arm flung out in an arc over her head. Jean-Luc turned away to ready himself for bed.

She spoke only as he joined her beneath the covers. "Did I misjudge?"

"Misjudge what?"

"With the ship. My solution."

"Oh--no, it's a unique idea. It should be interesting to see what the engineers make of it. I'm sure your mother will appreciate the independence it lends us and take the opportunity to argue for more frequent visits to Betazed."

"Lights off." She sidled into his arm and laid her cheek on his shoulder. "I was about to come looking for you. You left the ship."

"Tell me about sex."

She laughed at it, but not much. Certainly with less vigor than usual. "You haven't made that request in a long time."

"I was a naive innocent the last time I asked."

"You weren't either of those things the day we met, and you certainly weren't when you asked." Her fingers traced idle shapes along his arm, her chin moving against his chest. "You were interested in sex, however. Now you're just looking for a distraction to keep me from asking where you were."

"It doesn't matter. I went, I came back. Tell me about sex."

"What would you like to know?"

"Will we ever have any?" His arm tightened around her waist. "We haven't connected as well as we used to. I've missed you."

It sounded more plaintive than he'd intended. She trembled, then began to cry. Happily not for more than a few moments, and meanwhile he held her and hummed while running fingertips over her back in spirals and lines.

"I've always liked it when you do that," she whispered. "What are you writing?"

"All kinds of things. Go to sleep, cherie. It's late."

"Do you like morning sex better than evening sex?"

He chuckled at the sleepy, punchy question. She was so unlike herself when she was this tired. "I like sex with someone who's awake. Good night."

Remarkably, he fell asleep shortly after, only to awaken early to the sounds of an upset baby. He reached for Deanna but her arm remained slack under his hand--still asleep. He hurried, hoping to avoid awakening her.

Yves quieted almost as soon as he picked him up. Probably not hungry, then. He checked the diaper and began the routine of changing, unsnapping the sleeper to peel it from the wriggling chubby limbs of his son. Yves watched his hands move and as the powdering began he laughed.

Jean-Luc held up the canister again. Yves laughed, showing his gums and a dimple. Chuckling, Jean-Luc tried something else.

"What's going on?" Deanna's voice startled him. Jean-Luc looked up, a stuffed rabbit in hand, caught.

"He's laughing."

She smiled at it, some of the weariness falling from her face. "He's about that age." Stepping up alongside him, she touched Yves' foot. "Hello, handsome."

Jean-Luc held up the bunny and Yves chortled, one of his fists making it into his mouth on an upswing. "He also laughs at the powder, the stuffed chicken, and the rattle."

"Jean, he'd probably laugh at anything you held up. He's happy." She ran her hand down the baby's chest and stomach. "And why wouldn't you be, hm? Isn't Papa wonderful, getting up in the middle of the night just to play with you?"

"And what's Maman doing up?" Jean-Luc asked, fastening the diaper. "You were asleep."

"You left me. It woke me up. And I could sense how much fun you were having, so I thought I'd join you."

He fumbled with the tiny snaps while Yves jerked his limbs around and burbled. "The laughing was a pleasant surprise."

Her arm crept round his waist unexpectedly, her chin pressed against his arm, and he had no trouble kissing her with the slightest turn of the head. All channels open. Since returning from the Briar Patch--no, since several days after their arrival at the base, actually, now that he counted back--something had gone awry. Now he knew it had been her attempt to keep secrets from him, for his safety.

Rather than indulge the anger over the reasons why, he stayed with the moment, with her lips pressing his and a soft moan in the back of her throat, and her hand slipping down under the waistband of his shorts. He kissed her again, touching her throat with two fingertips that hooked the robe and eased it lower.

"The baby," she whispered after his lips drifted to her neck.

He looked at him, still wiggling, and laid a hand on him. Yves gained weight by the second, it seemed, and already in the scant five weeks Jean-Luc had lived with his son, the small infant had become less small, measurable by weight and by the way his father's hand circled less and less of him. It took both hands to pick him up, and once picked up Yves laughed again, sending a puff of old-formula breath into his papa's face.

"He's tired," Deanna said. "But still very happy." She kissed a round cheek and elicited more burbling giggles from Yves.

"Takes after me, obviously."

Deanna leaned, sandwiching the baby between them. "You're very happy?"

"You have to ask?" Frowning, he looked up from Yves into her eyes. The familiar lines around them and sadness glimmering in them answered the question. He put the baby in the crib and hesitated long enough to be certain Yves would sleep, watching him yawn and curl his little arms over his chest in repose.

In their bedroom, Jean-Luc guided her to sit with him on the edge of their bed and took her face in his hands. She closed her eyes to escape; he closed his to concentrate.

{Talk to me.}

In response, he felt her hands glide along his jaw to the back of his head, and suddenly there came the internal communion he had missed all these weeks. Rather than talking she drew him into a memory. The experience came through to him in full, though the visual memory seemed indistinct and blurry.

 

/ / Sickbay.

She came in slowly, hand to the small of the back, where a throb blossomed into muscle spasm and forced her to lean on the end of a biobed for support. The floor tilted. Tears obscured vision. The whirr of a tricorder, hands guiding, and the spasm ended--knees buckled in the aftermath as muscles slackened. Voices.

Another spasm. Vague awareness of feet pressed into metal braces--the birthing chair. A woman's voice reporting the slow dilation and estimating hours of labor. A gasp as the spasm relents and air can be drawn in, as someone dabs a wet cloth along forehead.

Mengis' green eyes, concerned, swimming into view.

"Take the baby."

"You indicated--"

"He isn't here. I have to be on the bridge when we receive an answer from Command. There's no time."

Mengis nods stiffly. His eyes say resignation, his mouth tightens, his head turns to someone out of range of vision. "Prepare for emergency transport of the child. Deanna, you must remain still. I'm giving you a mild relaxant to ease the contractions so we can remove the baby."

Eyes slowly drift shut. There is only the arms of the chair, around which fingers grip tight as the hypospray sounds. There is only the weight of the child, the heaviness carried for so many months as he grew to term and began to feel the beginnings of emotion--now, he feels no fear. The contractions press him but the warmth, the feel of her all around him, is still there.

And then there is the tingle as it begins. Fear. In seconds, he is cold, the wetness he used to know becoming a sensation with no name as the air begins to steal it from him, and his eyes open to a confusion of blurs and light. He inhales, coughs--there is something touching him, wrapping him, rubbing, and something in his nose, and suddenly a hard surface he hadn't recognized is gone, and then he is placed in something warm and soft, on his stomach. Something brushes his skin. The feeling is a new one. All of them are.

"Yves."

The talk around is nothing, indecipherable. The bundle in her arms is everything. Dark, sparse hair, puffy face, a tiny mouth open as a cry struggles weakly into being--breathing air is different, his body feels different, all the new textures and sounds not filtered through liquid and his mother's body.

She senses it all, and the emptiness of her body as other medications are administered and advice dispensed unheard.

For a while, there is nothing but the baby, his eyes unfocused. She reaches for the threads of the bond she had tried to establish, the one her husband should have been there to participate in, and does her best to reassure this little one. Someone gently guides her arms and takes him, someone else is asking -- she acquiesces and they tend her numbed lower body, her eyes on the tiny body under a warmer while a nurse unwraps and cleans him. He cries in weak spurts and is returned to her arms bundled and free of the liquids of her body.

Finally the voices all go away, the movement on the periphery of her awareness goes away. She is left with him, and pulls aside the gown they put on her earlier while she was distracted by the pain she finally allowed herself to acknowledge. He won't need to eat for some time, but he pulls at her breast out of reflex.

While he tugs and sucks and gazes up at her with pale eyes that will one day be like his father's, tears fall in abundance. Resolve grows, flutters, wanes, and more tears come.

There is a choice she cannot make. Sensors may have been limited by the Briar Patch, but she sensed them--there are more aliens in ships lurking in the clouds of interstellar gases and she must return. Taking Yves into danger would be against his father's wishes, and hers. Taking him to safety would mean leaving his father behind.

The choice remains unmade until she is checked, re-checked, and allowed to leave sickbay. In the nursery she rocks him in the chair she watched take shape under the hands of her husband, gazes out at the glow of the Briar Patch, and thinks of him remaining behind, of the friends he is with, and sings to her son softly in French, in Betazoid, telling him about his father and all the things he has done.

By the time she calls the lieutenant to her quarters, the decision has been made. While she waits she contacts others and makes preparations. Guinan arrives uncalled for; exchanging a sober dark-eyed understanding gaze, she nods agreement without a word.

She waits in the nursery with her baby, and when Natalia arrives she places him in the young woman's arms and gives her orders. The wide doe-eyes startle, then pool with sympathetic tears it becomes difficult not to answer with her own. Natalia accepts the charge without hesitation. Guinan takes charge of the baby and in the lift with Lieutenant Greenman, Deanna straightens her uniform, just once, mimicking a gesture she has seen her captain use many times.

When the doors open she is an officer. When the orders come, she is an officer. When she orders the ship back into the Briar Patch, she has the main viewer displaying the view forward, but in her mind she sees the yacht turning, setting out through the stars at warp, bearing children who may not see one of their parents again.

Or, in one case, both. But this has always been an all-or-nothing circumstance. The viewscreen glows all the shades of a Terran sunset. She remembers France, where she sat on a porch in her husband's arms watching such a sunset, and closes the memory away before the tears can escape again.

And she is once again an officer. Shields up. Best possible speed. She watches the monitors at her right hand, senses the determination and anxiety around her, casts her awareness out before them like a net and finds others, alien minds, not-crew and not-familiar. The resolve returns. She bottles the anger, the frustration, the fear, channels it into that empty space in her heart, and decides that they will win through to the planet and solve this mystery. Failure is not an option. She senses the excitement from the aliens, the anxiety, and orders red alert before the first vessel appears on sensors. / /

He reeled from the memory, opening his eyes to find tears on his own cheeks as well as hers. His mouth dry, he dropped his hands from her face and stared at his wife's desolate eyes. At length, he pulled her arms from his shoulders and tucked her into bed again, rubbing her abdomen and remembering the emptiness she'd felt.

He left her there and went to check the baby. Yves had fallen asleep, and in the dim nightlight he seemed so small. Jean-Luc ran a hand over the headboard of the crib, stared at the swan he'd cut into the pale wood months before, and touched his son's head, taking a curl in his fingertips and letting the fine baby hair slide between them.

Deanna waited for him, watching him resettle beside her. She'd lit a candle on her side of the bed. In the flicker and shadows the lines around her eyes disappeared.

"We'll be together next time," she whispered. In spite of himself, he smiled. He took her hand and pressed it to his chest. In response, she closed her fingers around his chest hair, tugging at it.

Her mouth softened under a kiss. As they parted he raised his head and blew out the candle. He fell asleep with his head on her chest, her hand splayed over his shoulder and her cheek against his scalp, while she sang in a half-whisper one of the lullabies she often sang for Yves.

 

~^~^~^~^~^~

"But--"

"I am not amused, Lieutenant," Maven exclaimed. She strode around the ready room as if she owned it.

"Neither am I. My friend Wesley was there, the cadet was there--"

"Your friend Wesley, so far as the station logs indicate, did not arrive on a transport, or on a private vessel, or a shuttle, or by any other means. So far as I know he does not exist. And none of the cadets has been reported missing."

"The captain--"

"Stow it, Greenman. I'm not about to disturb Captain Picard for this. It's bad enough that you got me out of bed for this nonsense. You're confined to quarters pending my decision of what to do about this prank of yours. Dismissed."

"But--"

"Dismissed! Go!" Maven barked.

Natalia went, but stayed in her quarters only long enough to change clothes. Something was going on, and she had to find out what. Maven could go stuff herself. Once evidence came forth, the captain would be on Natalia's side. She just had to find evidence. Hopefully, she'd find Wesley and the cadet. Alive. Plus answers.

She checked out a tricorder and hurried to the transporter room before Maven's orders hit the system, hopefully. The attendant yawned and sent her to the starbase without incident. Breathing a sigh of relief, Natalia hurried through scantly-populated corridors.

The narrow cross-corridor was dimmer than the main corridors. She opened the tricorder and began scanning as she approached the site. A slow sidestep around the corner, and there was the redhead, covered in gore.

Natalia stared, hardly breathing. The tricorder winked for her attention. She looked down--the woman was alive, and there was another life reading in close proximity. She wished she'd brought a phaser--but she hadn't imagined finding anyone, she'd only come for clues, not confrontations.

She backed slowly away. It occurred to her that the woman might be bait and helpless--she began altering the tricorder's parameters for medical purposes. In the moments she had to wait while information passed from the ship's computer to the tricorder, she heard something move and leaped away from the sound.

Not fast enough. Something wrapped around her throat and then a blow fell, plummeting her into darkness.

~^~^~^~^~

Beverly met Jean-Luc in a corridor as she came out of a lift. "Jean-Luc!"

"Beverly, good morning," he said warmly, gripping her arm in greeting. "I was just on my way to sickbay."

She turned to walk with him back into the lift. "Deanna?"

"Just a check-up. Are you here about last night?"

"Tom feels terrible about it, you know." She'd figured that out when he tried to explain. "I don't think he's lying about wanting to harm the people responsible for it. He really likes Deanna that much."

Jean-Luc's hands opened and closed a few times before he resorted to the usual tug of the uniform and put them behind his back. "I shouldn't have come over that way. I knew he hadn't been a part of it--Deanna would never allow him near us. But I. . . I suppose I needed a safe outlet. It wasn't her fault. She's already suffered enough, she doesn't need my emotional baggage in addition to hers." His eyes drifted around, avoiding hers.

"You've been very worried about her."

His eyes finally met hers. The turmoil in them was hard to label. From the set of his mouth, he was still furious but keeping it under tight wraps. "I have good reason to be."

"Do you? She's taking everything with remarkable composure."

The lift doors opened. He strode out, leaving her to follow. As she caught up she saw the movement in his throat and the tightness of the jaw, and refrained from further comment. By the time they reached sickbay, some of the tension had gone. He strode to the bed where Deanna sat. Her wardrobe had changed--once again, she wore a modest dress. On the ship, modesty; on leave elsewhere, more freedom of expression. It made sense, given her rank and that of her husband. Deanna smiled at Jean-Luc and failed to notice Beverly until she'd touched her arm.

"Good morning, Beverly. How is Lora?"

"Giving Tom a dose of fatherhood. I left him to convince her finishing breakfast wouldn't kill her. You look better today."

A glance at Jean-Luc at that. "I feel better. What brings you over this early?"

"I'm going shopping with Bell and her mother and sister. Want to come?"

Deanna sighed. "Are we playing buffer zone?"

"She told you?"

"Will said something about disapproving in-laws. Do you think she'd mind if I brought Mother?"

Jean-Luc sniffed. "If distracting relatives from squabbling is the object, that would do it. Did they finish already?"

"One more test result pending." Deanna draped a hand on his shoulder, then caressed the back of his head--an odd gesture. "Gregory says the implantation was a success and that the hormone shots won't be necessary. I should be able to resume my exercise regimen in a week."

Beverly turned as Dr. Mengis approached. "Hello, Gregory. How's the patient faring? And how did you get her in sickbay?"

Mengis smiled and inclined his head toward the captain. "Appeals to a higher power. She's well on the road to complete recovery. More rest and some counseling should help." He held up a hypo. "Your psylosynine levels are low this morning. I'm going to let you go with a warning to pay more attention to the resting. This time."

Deanna held out her left arm and watched him insert an implant. She made a fist and flexed the muscles, grimacing at the initial sensation but turning a smile on Jean-Luc. Birth control, Beverly realized.

"See you in one week. Don't forget your appointment this afternoon." Mengis tapped Deanna's knee with the hypo and left them there.

"I don't need counseling," she complained, sliding down.

"I disagree." Jean-Luc pulled her close. The gesture startled Beverly. Deanna flicked a mildly-surprised look her way, then leaned against her husband.

"You worry too much."

"Just humor me, Dee." He glanced at Beverly. "And you keep an eye on her. Don't let her wear herself out."

"If we're taking Lwaxana, we'll have Mr. Homn along to carry the parcels. I'll have her back before her appointment."

"Good." He eyed Deanna as if trying to mesmerize her. She snorted and shoved him away.

As they left sickbay, he went the opposite direction without a word, obviously heading for the bridge. Deanna shook her head. "Fussier than my mother. Speaking of whom, she's meeting us in the transporter room. She's pleased we invited her."

Telepaths. Beverly smiled, hoping she hadn't been too startled. She'd never get used to things like that. "You really are looking better today."

"I slept much better last night. Jean has been handling the night feedings."

"He's also being incredibly paternal about you. Since when do you need a guardian?"

"I'm beginning to wish I hadn't taken such a long leave. The longer I'm out of uniform, the worse it gets." She rolled her eyes.

Lwaxana straightened from leaning over the transporter console and held out her arms as they came in. "There you are! Good morning, Little One! Dr. Crusher, hello again. Oh, we'll have such fun!"

Beverly smiled at the ensign at the console. He looked relieved to see them and followed Deanna's orders with unparalleled quickness, actually smiling as they beamed out to the starbase. As they left transporter room six, Lwaxana insinuated herself between them and took their arms, leaving Homn to follow as always.

Bell was easy to spot; she waited in the first main junction of corridors, in front of broad planters full of large-leaved greenery. Her mother was as tall as she, and had hair nearly as dark as Deanna's. Her sister twirled some of her straight pale-yellow hair around a finger and smiled tentatively when they approached.

"Good morning," Beverly exclaimed, trying to set a cheerful tone. "Bell, you've met Deanna's mother, haven't you?"

"Of course I have, cherie. Mother, Vickie, this is Dr. Beverly Crusher, Commander Deanna Troi, and Ambassador Lwaxana Troi. And the tall silent one is Mr. Homn, if I remember correctly. This is my mother, Helen Ainsley, and my sister, Victoria Hennesy."

Helen's reserve wasn't enough to cover the nervous glance at Bell. Victoria's smile grew more genuine. "Pleased to meet you, Ambassador, Commander."

"I'm on leave, so call me Deanna, please."

"You must call me Lwaxana, of course--Bell, I was so excited to hear you're marrying Will! Weddings are so much fun. Didn't you say Jean-Luc was performing the ceremony?" Lwaxana turned to Deanna, who almost answered, but was interrupted by her mother forging ahead. "I do hope he loosens up a little, really he can be such a stiff old thing. And he'd better not try to talk me out of coming to the ceremony--honestly, I don't know why he goes to such lengths to avoid me! Having your wedding so far from Betazed, and the way he keeps putting off a formal Betazoid ceremony--"

"Mother," Deanna said, already slumping as if she knew it would do no good.

"--just because he doesn't like the idea of being seen in public with no clothes! As if he had any reason to be embarrassed--I'm certain he mustn't have, because after all, you married him, and you do have such good taste--"

"Mother! Please!" Deanna half-shouted.

"But I really shouldn't complain," Lwaxana rambled, waving her hands and moving off in the general direction of the shops, proving that she'd probably already been there. "He does take such good care of you. And he did promise he'd bring you and the baby home to visit, I must admit that startled me--I only wish he were younger, you know. He's gone to such lengths to make you happy --he really doesn't like me, you know, but he knows it's important to you so he tries so hard to be cordial."

Deanna was trying to look apologies at Bell and her mother and sister, and fell in behind her mother's sweeping peacock-blue skirts. "Mother, I'm sure Bell and her family aren't interested in--"

"I really didn't expect all this effort from him," Lwaxana exclaimed, half-turning and almost hitting Deanna's forehead with an extravagant wave. "Starship captains being what they are, and he's worst of all of them. Absolutely set on his career, no matter what. Still, he's made such an effort to make us a family--that really is the wonderful thing about it all. And you know, I just know Will will turn out to be just the same!" She whirled and took Bell by the shoulders, nudging Deanna out of her way. "I just know you'll be happy with William. He's just as dedicated as our Jean-Luc to his commitments. I always knew he would be a marvelous husband, and he's matured so much since I first met him--"

"Thank you, very much," Bell said, gripping Lwaxana's arms in kind. "I appreciate your reassurance. Where do you think we should go shopping first?"

"Why it's so obvious what we must do, you're getting married--we'll get you a gift! Homn--the map, please."

Homn swept forward around the group and produced a padd from his sleeve, bowing. Lwaxana consulted it briefly and flicked her fingers. "Of course. Lingerie," she sang, leading the way like a queen striding before her entourage.

"I am never going to hear the end of it," Deanna sighed as they followed. "We should have had the ceremony the last time we were on Betazed."

"Isn't that redundant?" Beverly asked, glancing at Helen and Victoria to ascertain the impact of all this. "I was there -- you were married once already."

"Not in a traditional Betazoid ceremony. And we Daughters of the Fifth House have to have tradition, it's just the way it is." Deanna eyed her mother's back. "Would it be too much to ask that it's very small, Mother?"

"Oh, dear, you know better than that. I already have a preliminary guest list--I'll show you after we're done shopping for Bell. At least four representatives from each of the Six Houses, and of course your cousins, and all my friends and fellow ambassadors. And anyone Jean-Luc would like to invite, of course."

"Did I mention how happy I am for you, Bell?" Deanna said, looking more like she was a member of a funeral procession.

"Yes, in fact you did. When you agreed to be the matron of honor."

"I meant how happy I am for you that you aren't Betazoid. Mother, what are you wearing to Bell's wedding? And don't tell me you're going to wear your usual wedding attire."

"Why, Deanna," Lwaxana cried. She turned and halted their progress again. Beverly pressed her lips together and watched the various officers and other passers-by stare at them. "I intend to honor the bride and groom in my own way, according to our own traditions. Certainly William would appreciate that."

"Maybe, but you know who wouldn't appreciate it."

Lwaxana propped her hands on her hips. "You just tell Jean-Luc he'd better respect our traditions and mind his manners. Honestly, if he can be so diplomatic and tolerant to the rest of the universe, he can certainly extend some of that respect to me!"

"I was talking about Worf, Mother. He's the best man." Deanna smiled sweetly. "And you do know how much Klingon and Betazoid traditions clash. If both of you showed up honoring your own traditions, you may need medical attention."

Lwaxana gaped at her daughter. She shook herself, snapped her mouth shut, and sighed heavily. "You know, I was extremely happy when you broke off that relationship. Mr. Wolf is a very fine Klingon but he would make a completely unsuitable husband for a Daughter of the Fifth House."

"Could we please go shopping?" Deanna cried. Lwaxana hurried forth with a skip in her step, Homn drifted along behind her taking one step to every four of hers, and Deanna covered her face with her hands.

"And you said she was going to be troublesome," Beverly said, draping an arm over Deanna's shoulders. "Come on, that wasn't so bad. She's really mellowed since you got married. She didn't even mention that fiancee of yours who ran off with someone else and left you at the altar."

"I hate it when she reminisces," Deanna muttered. She stuffed her fists in her pockets--good thing the blue dress she wore was made of sturdy material--and stalked after her mother.

Beverly smiled at the others, who were now looking at her with raised eyebrows all the way around. "Shall we?" She gestured after the Trois. Helen followed, eyebrows still high, and Victoria shrugged nervously and did the same. Bell fell into step with Beverly and grabbed her arm.

"Thank you for bringing them," she whispered, tickling Beverly's ear.

Beverly grinned. Ahead of them, Lwaxana had chosen a store and sallied forth, calling for a clerk to attend. Deanna waited for the rest of the group, rubbing her eye and shaking her head.

"You all right?" Beverly asked.

"I suppose. Bell, I'm so sorry." Deanna shot a glare at Homn. "Don't laugh at me," she snapped. Homn bobbed and bowed, flattening out the slight smile he usually wore. She stalked into the store and the smile reappeared.

"Was he laughing?" Helen asked, completely confused.

"Deanna is an empath, Mom," Bell explained. "She senses emotions very well. Right, Mr. Homn?"

He bowed and smiled more.

"Sometimes too well," Beverly said. "You know, there's a store across the way that has some very nice dresses--have you decided on what to wear to the wedding?" She directed the question to Helen and Victoria. "Why don't we go across and see if there's anything worth buying while Lwaxana gives the clerks a headache here?"

"Yes, let's," Helen said, smiling at last. "I would like to find something to compliment Bell's colors. Burgundy, didn't you say, dear? Do you think a warm off-white would do?"

They meandered across the corridor. Beverly glanced over her shoulder and smiled at Deanna, who stood in the racks watching them, arms crossed over her stomach and wearing a happy lopsided grin. She winked and went after her mother. Lwaxana stood quietly waiting for her; she held out an arm to put around her daughter and the two conferred over something on one of the racks.

~^~^~^~^~

Natalia rolled over and groaned. Beneath her, deck plates trembled. A ship under acceleration, she guessed, rubbing her throbbing head. The room was pitch-black. How frustrating, to be only minutes into an investigation and be slugged from behind. She should have enlisted help, if only to watch her back.

In the darkness she heard something--cloth against metal?

"Hello?"

"Hi," came a female voice.

"Glad you woke up," a male said. Natalia felt for her comm badge. Missing. No translator, which meant everyone spoke Standard so far.

"Does anyone know what's going on?" she asked.

"Other than being whacked on the head and tossed in here, no." That was Wes. "There are six of us. I woke up just a while ago myself, and we were in the middle of introductions when you woke."

"All right, can we do introductions again? I'm Natalia Greenman, lieutenant, FCO, _Enterprise_."

"Max Avalos," the man who'd spoken second said. "Ensign, from the engineering department aboard the _Potemkin_."

"Khalia Merrin, fresh from the Academy. I'm supposed to do my training cruise aboard the _Venture_," the woman said with a faint accent.

"Mekrios Daven," a rough male voice growled. "I am ze engineer's assistant on ze cargo vessel _Achron_."

"Nico," the last person chimed in. He said nothing more.

"So we're all human?" Natalia stood up slowly, feeling her way up a cold metal wall. "All speaking Standard? All kidnapped from the starbase?"

"It would seem so," Mekrios said. "Ze cowards, struck me from behind--I did not see zem."

"A cadet, an ensign, a lieutenant, and three civilians. Can't be anything to do with Starfleet. You'd think they would pick someone with rank." Natalia felt along the wall until her foot bumped someone's leg. "Sorry."

"You warned the wrong person in the bar." Nico sat at her feet, she realized. And he'd recognized her voice. "That damned little redhead lured me into a side corridor and someone knocked me out."

"The little redhead was what got me," Wes said. "The lieutenant and I found her in a corridor. Natalia went for help and I was struck from behind. She was still alive, Natalia. I think she was doing it on purpose to trap good samaritans."

"No one got a look at what ship we're on?"

"No. We were all unconscious when we were tossed in here," Khalia said. "I was the second victim, after the ensign. We compared notes."

"Khalia and I both smelled something before the blow fell," Max said. "A chemical smell, almost like the decon cleaners we use after a coolant spill. And whoever did this knew how much of a blow the human skull can take. They want us alive, obviously."

"Have you looked for a door or any other way out of this room?"

Nico snorted. Mekrios said, "You should not scoff, smuggler. Ze lieutenant is esking ze logical questions. I did search for such zings, and zere is a door, but it is of course locked wiz no control on zis side."

Natalia struck out in the darkness until her foot met someone else's legs, shuffled along to the wall, and found a seam with her fingers. One blow with the heel of her hand resulted in a deep-toned, dull echo.

"Thick, but hollow. If we don't get out there's no telling how far out of Federation space we might end up."

"We know. But anything we had was taken from us." Khalia's voice came closer as she spoke.

"There's got to be a way. We can't just sit here."

"Our crews will miss us. Someone will come after us," Max said.

"There's no guarantee we'll be alive that long. Wes, any ideas?"

But Wes said nothing. She wished there was a light. Natalia kicked the door but nothing happened.

"Hey! You aren't going to have your way with us if we starve to death," she shouted. "Food! Food! C'mon, you fucking jerks!"

Scuffling and footsteps, and someone smelling of sweat-dampened standard issue uniform bumped into her, compensated, and took up the cause, pounding and kicking at the doors. "HEY! FEED THE ANIMALS!" he bellowed, voice so distorted she didn't recognize it. But it had to be Max, the ensign. Wes and the other men weren't in uniform.

Khalia joined them, banging on the wall, but after making sore hands and feet and subsiding, she panted and said, "This is useless. Might as well howl at the moon."

"Crap in a can," Natalia blurted, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. "Why would anyone want the six of us?"

 

~^~^~^~^~

Jean-Luc hurried along, a box under his arm, and almost ran into a tall, familiar person coming out of a store.

"Hey, easy, what's the red alert?" Tom exclaimed, sidestepping to avoid a collision.

"I'm on my way back to my ship to meet a counselor. Do you often shop for Argelian paraphernalia?"

Tom snorted. "I'm following a trail, along with most of my on-duty security officers and some of the station's. One of my cadets is missing. Did you know your Lieutenant Greenman reported a badly-mangled cadet last night?"

"No, I did not." Jean-Luc strode forward again. "How did you know?"

"She reported to station security and brought officers from sickbay along. She stated that a redheaded woman she believed to be a cadet and a young man named Wesley Crusher were in a side corridor, and that Mr. Crusher had stayed to render whatever aid he could to the injured woman while she went for help."

Jean-Luc spun about. "What?"

"Security turned her over to the tender mercies of your interim first officer, as you were not responding to hails. The timing coincides with your little outburst in my quarters, explaining their inability to find you." Tom sighed, running fingers through mussed hair. "I attempted to contact Greenman myself this morning with no success."

"Wesley is missing, your cadet is missing -- Picard to Greenman," he snapped, touching his comm badge. When no answer came, he hailed Maven.

"Maven here."

"I would like to know why Lieutenant Greenman is not answering my hails," Jean-Luc said. Tom turned to walk with him.

"I don't know why. She should be confined to quarters."

"And why should she be confined to quarters?" Jean-Luc glanced at Tom, who rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"As an officer she should know better than to indulge in pranks."

"You mean reporting people missing? What would lead you to construe that to be a prank?"

A pause. "Sir, there was no record of the people she reported missing."

"You mean Dr. Crusher's son and an as-yet unidentified woman."

Another pause. "Sir--"

"My flight control officer reports to you that two people are missing, and you assume it's a prank. Would you care to explain to me why you believe any officer under my command would instigate such a ridiculous excuse for a prank?"

"You were unavailable," Maven exclaimed. "It seemed too coincidental. I have noticed that most of the crew regard me with contempt--it seemed to me that Greenman might be taking advantage of the opportunity to make me seem--"

"Commander, whatever their opinions of you may be personally, I doubt that any officer above the rank of lieutenant aboard the _Enterprise_ would behave so unprofessionally. I do not condone disrespect of senior officers and I would not tolerate such behavior. Lieutenant Greenman has been with us for nearly four years and I can say with certainty that she would not lie to you. I suggest that you have security begin a search immediately. You may find images of Mr. Crusher in computer records, under former _Enterprise_ crew members--he was in fact an ensign under my command some years ago before he left Starfleet. Coordinate the search with station security, as they are currently searching for a cadet reported missing from the _Venture_."

"Aye, sir."

"I would also suggest that after giving these orders, you turn the bridge over to Mr. Carlisle and get the hell off of it." Jean-Luc swerved to avoid an alarmed group of cadets. "You might also make use of the time it will take me to speak with the station commander and the other captains currently docked here to pack your belongings."

Another pause. Tom jogged him with his elbow and shook his head.

"Commander, belay that last order. Wait for me in my ready room. Picard out."

Tom glanced at the directional aids posted on a wall as they passed through a junction. "Now where are we going?"

"Deanna. She's with Beverly and the others, shopping. I think we ought to tell Beverly."

"I was hoping to have good news to go along with the bad." Tom tapped his badge. "Glendenning to Rorqual."

"Nothing yet, sir," came the rumbling reply. Rorqual was by far the bulkiest human Jean-Luc had ever seen. Tom had promoted him from a lieutenant on his previous vessel to chief of security of the _Venture_. "There have been other reports of missing persons, however. An ensign from _Potemkin_, a lieutenant from the _Enterprise_, and the commander of a cargo vessel. All human."

Tom and Jean-Luc stopped, eyes meeting at the news. Tom's jaw slid to one side as he mulled over the news. "Random kidnapings, unless there's some commonality not readily apparent."

"Yes, sir. The station security chief went to the station commander a few moments ago to recommend a station-wide yellow alert."

"Recall all our personnel from leave, except for the ones who left the immediate vicinity by transport. I want a head count from all the department heads. Glendenning out."

"Damn her," Jean-Luc growled. "I should have protested her assignment."

"Spilt milk, Jean-Luc. Let's get going."

Jean-Luc issued a recall of the _Enterprise_ crew on the way to find Deanna. Following the pull of the bond between them took him through the major commercial section of the starbase, and as the group of women came into view the yellow alert sounded. Immediately the corridor filled with rushing officers as they left salons and shops for their posts.

Deanna stopped and waited for them, her companions doing the same. "What's going on?" she asked over the rumble of many footsteps and the whoop of the yellow alert klaxon.

"Missing people, our helm officer among them. And Wesley."

"What!" Beverly surged forward, almost dropping her bags. "How?"

"I would guess he was on his way to find you and encountered Natalia, but right now we need to focus on finding them rather than worry about how he got here. Commander, consider yourself recalled to duty."

"Jean-Lu--"

"I don't care, Tom," he snapped. "I don't want Maven on my bridge. If she had reacted to this properly the kidnapers would have had significantly less time to remove their victims from the station."

"I wasn't questioning that. I only wanted to suggest getting off the station before we're trampled." He gestured at Beverly. She joined him as he contacted his ship, and a moment later both of them dissolved in a transporter beam.

"All of us, Jean," Deanna exclaimed.

He glanced at the anxious faces of Bell and her relatives, Lwaxana, and the passive Mr. Homn laden with his mistress' purchases. "Picard to _Enterprise_. Seven to beam aboard from these coordinates."

~^~^~^~^~

Beverly hurried to keep up with Tom. He could cover more ground at a walk than she could jogging, if he was in a hurry. They stepped into a lift with the new helm officer, also hurrying to his post because of the yellow alert. He gazed at Beverly and her civilian clothing and her shopping bags, raising an eyebrow.

"Put that eyebrow back in its holster, sailor," Tom said. "Commander Crusher happens to be a superior officer of yours. Doctor, this is Ensign Cray."

"Hello, Ensign. Don't forget that routine physical three days from now, when I'm officially back from leave," Beverly said.

"You're officially and temporarily back, technically," Tom said as the doors opened. He sprang out in one step. "Commander?"

"Nearly all our crew has beamed aboard, sir," Data said from the main bridge. Beverly came out and dropped her bags against the wall at the back of the bridge, straightened her tunic, wished briefly for time to put on a uniform, and marched down to join the captain and first officer.

"Wesley is one of the missing," she said quietly.

Data's head jerked up. "I was not aware of that. I am sorry to hear that, Doctor."

"Let's see a list of the ships that have stopped here in the past few days, especially if they departed this morning between zero and six hours, and Rorqual, get some channels open. Shelby first, she's missing one crew member also."

"I am already in contact with _Potemkin_, _Enterprise_ and three other vessels," the security chief exclaimed as his fingers skipped across his board. Behind him two ensigns manned secondary stations and seemed just as busy. "_Potemkin_ has just departed along with the _Endeavor_ and the _Gharat'chka_ in pursuit of the four vessels that left starbase in the time frame you mentioned."

"Engineering, status?" Tom called, pacing in an ellipse around the front of the bridge.

"I hope you aren't asking for warp. Best estimate to warp readiness, an hour--and that's pushing safety margins. Full impulse we can do."

Beverly looked up from checking on sickbay using the console at the counselor's unoccupied post. Tom crossed his arms, standing between ops and helm, his broad shoulders square. "Push it," he exclaimed.

"We'll do the best we can."

"You'll do better than an hour."

"Sir," Rorqual blurted. "The _Enterprise_ is leaving the station in pursuit of the fourth vessel."

On the main viewer, the other Sovereign-class vessel passed across the backdrop of stars, made small by distance. Her impulse engines glowed crimson.

"He's running a fool's errand if he thinks he can catch up," the ops man said. "Her engines are just as cold as ours."

Beverly sighed and watched the _Enterprise_ changing course. Suddenly her nacelles flickered to life, and in a dazzle of energy she leaped to warp.

Tom looked askance at his ops man, who gaped along with most of the other bridge officers. "Get me warp, dammit," he shouted.

"I believe Lieutenant-Commander LaForge employed a cold-start of the warp engines," Data said. "I have helped him to do so in the past. I could assist--"

"Assist, then!"

"Aye, sir," Data said amiably, heading up the bridge to the lift without reacting to Tom's barked order.

Beverly sank back in the counselor's chair with crossed arms. Tom glared at her and began to pace once more. It wasn't just the missing people now, it was a matter of pride and old-fashioned male competition.

~^~^~^~^~

"Put me down," Natalia exclaimed, leaning left. Max ducked out of the way just in time as she slid off his shoulders. "It's no use. I can't feel any hint of a ventilation duct or anything else."

"I just wish they'd turn on the damned lights," Nico grumbled, his first words in what seemed like hours.

"I'd give anything for a phaser right now." Khalia moved restlessly around the room.

"You and all of us. Ze damn Ghesh."

"How do you know who they are?" Natalia asked.

Silence. She headed toward the last known location of the engineer and found him with her foot. Subsequent taps with her toe and a slight musty odor confirmed that what she had thought was human was in fact a Gheshavin.

"Why did you let us think you were human? You saw your kidnaper, didn't you? Four eye stalks can't have missed it--you must've been able to get a peek with at least one eye."

Mekrios shrank from her, scuttling away across the floor.

"You know more than you're telling us, don't you, Mekrios? If that's your name. Why did you let us think you were human?"

"Answer the question," Max exclaimed.

"Not to mention how you know Standard so well," Natalia added. "Gheshavin don't normally bother."

"I am not a Gheshavin! Zey are all traitors!"

Natalia sighed. "Well, that gels it. This is a Gheshavin vessel, isn't it?"

Another long silence.

"Mekrios, I know enough about the physiology of a Gorshavin to understand that if I come over there and kick you hard enough, it'll crush your puny little thorax and guarantee a long slow death."

Another silence. Then an exasperated exhalation. "What's the point?" Khalia exclaimed.

"The point is, Mekrios here was probably snooping where he didn't belong and got caught. The Gorshavin and Gheshavin are enemies and claim to be separate species, though genetics say otherwise. What time were you abducted, Max?" She already knew the stories the others told matched Wesley's and hers--an apparently-bleeding woman in a side corridor, then a blunt object to the head.

"About twenty-three hundred, I think."

"Khalia?"

"Twenty-three fifteen. I checked the time before I left the party I was at."

"Wes was taken at twenty-three forty or so. I was nailed some time later, around oh one hundred and twenty, after being grilled by station security and then by Maven. What about Nico?"

"Nico was brought in shortly after you were," Max said. "Wesley was still unconscious, you were out, and Nico was unconscious, too."

"We were blinded by the light in the corridor and couldn't see much," Khalia added. "I think they shone something directly into the room on purpose."

"So, Nico, are we on a Gheshavin vessel? One of your enemies come looking for you, maybe?"

Silence again.

"He's not going to talk," Wesley said. "I've seen his kind before."

"What kind is that, little man?" Nico shouted. "Come over here and I'll show you what I am!"

"You were the last one brought in," Wesley shouted back. "Why'd they stop with you? What's so special about you?"

"He's a smuggler," Natalia said. "I'll bet the Gheshavin have a grudge because he was smuggling weapons, or maybe technology, to the Gorshavin."

"You're an annoying little twat and you don't know what the hell you're babbling about."

Natalia heard someone move and threw out an arm. A lucky catch--Max, she guessed, breathing hard and angry. "Don't I, Nico? That little redhead you were posturing for in the club was the bait. She hooked up with you after I left, I'll bet. Your ship's berth was on a direct line with that side corridor. She took up a position between your ship and whatever rented room you took her to, pretended to be a bloody mess to get your attention, and a Gorshavin was waiting on the ceiling. Nice having the ability to stick to any surface that way, especially when your quarry's a human who rarely looks at ceilings. Only the rest of us came along first and they were forced to take us as well so we wouldn't give the whole thing away. And their ship was berthed at the other end of that same corridor, because I'll bet you they knew what room you were renting. This whole thing is because of you."

"Shut the fuck up!"

She heard him coming and spun away, unfortunately into Max and Khalia. Nico's bulk carried the three of them into a wall. Max shouted in outrage and struck out but hit Natalia on the side of the head.

"Ensign! Stop it! Back off!" she shouted, gathering her limbs and trying to fend off blows with her forearms. She forced Nico backward with a foot to his stomach and rushed him, following up with a kick that landed squarely in what sounded like a very sensitive spot, from the bellow of pain that resulted.

Hearing compensated in the dark. She grabbed in the direction of his heavy panting and found an ear, and twisted.

"AAAHH!"

"I don't like bullies, Nico," she shouted into the ear. "You try that again and I'll rip your nuts off and feed 'em to you! I don't have time for bigshot attitudes, so lay off! Either help us out or SHUT UP and stay out of the way!"

Shoving him away, she backed as far as she could and found the wall. They listened in silence to Nico's panting and stifled grunts of pain. While she practiced calming exercises to slow her breathing and restore order to her thoughts, a hand found her arm, traveled down to her hand, and twined fingers with fingers.

"Where'd you learn to fight?" Khalia sounded unsure and almost tearful.

"Security training."

"Security," Wesley murmured. "I thought you were the flight control officer."

"I'm going for command. Cross-training. I still take shifts in security. Not to mention the mok'bara classes Commander Troi teaches."

"What now, Lieutenant?" Khalia asked. The first mention of rank--Natalia paused to appreciate it.

"We wait. Someone's noticed we're missing by now. Captain Picard's going to be furious with Maven and I mentioned Wesley in my report, so Captain Glendenning will also be out searching."

"Captain Glendenning knows Wesley?" Khalia asked.

"No, but he's sweet on Wes' mother and you can bet he'll come looking. Mekrios, what's the name of this ship?"

"Ze _Tenriva Tok_."

"Good. It was on the official list at the station, under a Khvestallan registry. There can't have been too many ships leaving in the past twelve hours or so--they'll contact each one and ask questions, and send a ship after the ones that won't answer."

"How do you know so much about the ships berthed at the starbase?" Khalia asked.

"Just a little research. It pays to check your surroundings thoroughly. I've learned that the hard way."

Wesley grunted. "Sounds like you've been on the _Enterprise_, all right."

"Worse--I went on a shuttle trip with the captain to a conference."

"Yeah, those can be a lot of fun, can't they?"

~^~^~^~^~^~

"I request that you reconsider, sir."

Jean-Luc glared over the desk in his ready room. "On what grounds?"

Maven kept her hands behind her back and appealed with her eyes. "Permission to speak freely?"

He considered a few moments. They were five minutes into the pursuit of the fourth vessel and would catch up to it any time. He had intended to make this short and get Maven off the bridge, but she hadn't budged. On one hand, he'd already dismissed her, and this plea for audience would make no difference in his decision. On the other, she was Nechayev's daughter.

"Granted."

"I made a mistake, sir," she said, looking at the floor but bringing her eyes back up almost at once. "When I came aboard, I expected a tight ship, full of professionals, something in keeping with your reputation. But the informality I saw--and Commander Troi, and. . . . I'm sorry, Captain. I misread all of it. I thought Greenman's informality with you was a sign of favoritism on your part, that Troi was another sign of the same, and. . . . I'm sorry."

Jean-Luc folded his hands on his desk. "You didn't bother to share these concerns with the ship's counselor? Or, perhaps, myself--I am not so oblivious to the opinions of others regarding the commander and I. Your mother expressed similar concerns, at one point."

"My. . . sir, how did you know? I know she didn't say anything." Eyes wide, she paled until her faint pink lipstick stood out in contrast.

"Because you wouldn't want anyone to construe your rank as a sign of favoritism?"

Color rushed back into her face. Her eyes narrowed. "Tom. That bastard."

An odd choice of words, coming from Maven, the illegitimate child in the circumstance. "It's not much of a stretch for me to guess. I did serve with Elena at one point in the distant past. You seem to have inherited her command style. I suppose she said nothing about mine to you?"

"She doesn't discuss such things with me. I am what I am by my own merits."

"As is Commander Troi, and any other officer aboard. I admit that the informality was there, but you must realize that we've just come from a dangerous mission--the damage to the ship alone should have told you that. Comradery is not an unusual development under such circumstances and the informality is partly a reaction to what we've all been through as a team. And, in the attempt to follow advice given to me by a former ship's counselor, I have in fact altered my style of command. I do get to know my officers, the senior officers especially. I find that contrary to my prior assumptions, it facilitates working relationships to have more relaxed off-duty relationships with them."

Maven squared her shoulders. "I see."

{Jean, we're within communication range of the vessel we've been pursuing. I don't sense Natalia.}

He blinked, stood up quickly, and in doing so startled Maven. "You want a second chance."

"Please, sir."

"Come with me." He strode past her. Deanna stood up as he emerged on the bridge and waited calmly.

"Captain Relos, of the _Emperion_," she said, nodding toward the view screen. "A star liner touring Federation worlds, bound for Bajor. The tour of the month appears to be focused on famous ruins of the Federation."

Jean-Luc turned to find a slightly-confused but friendly face--Trill, he noted, judging from the spots. "Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the _Enterprise_, sir. We are searching for some missing people we believe have been kidnaped on the starbase you just left."

"That's what the commander was saying, but I don't believe your people are aboard. We do a head count each time we depart from a stopover. All crew and passengers are accounted for and there are no extra life signs on our sensors. Certainly you can tell with your own sensors. I just gave the commander our passenger list and crew roster, as we've registered them with all the proper authorities including Starfleet."

"He's correct, sir," Deanna said. "The roster and our sensor readings match."

"Sir, we should verify that those missing are not substituted for passengers," deLio pointed out.

"Noted. But I don't believe that will be necessary. Thank you, Captain Relos, and my apologies for the interruption."

"It was no bother, Captain. I hope you find the people you are looking for." Relos smiled and cut the transmission.

"Commander deLio was correct," Maven said. "There was a chance."

"I would have sensed Natalia's presence," Deanna replied.

"Even if she were unconscious?" deLio exclaimed. "Or dead?"

"Star liners do luggage checks to find contraband or weapons. My mother complains about it all the time. I doubt anyone could have smuggled a body aboard," Deanna pointed out.

"The question now is which of the other ships would be most likely to have taken them. The courses they're on are widely divergent," Ward pointed out from ops.

"Do we have the names of the other missing persons?" Jean-Luc asked.

"Ensign Max Avalos, from the _Potemkin_. Cadet Khalia Merrin, due to report for her training cruise aboard _Venture_. Mr. Crusher and Lieutenant Greenman." deLio looked up from his board. "And a man named Nico, a trader with an arrest record. He smuggled contraband during the war."

Deanna frowned and went to her chair, tapping on the console there with the reflection of the readout in her eyes. "The remaining three ships are a cargo vessel, another passenger vessel, and a Starfleet transport--the one that brought the cadets to the station, returning to Earth. The cargo vessel is registered as Khvestallan."

"Khvesta is adjacent to Gorshavin, and the Gorsha have been at war with the Ghesha for over a century with only a few treaties negotiated," deLio said.

"And we negotiated the last one. Two years ago, when the Gorsha requested Federation intervention. You had a terrible time with them and they broke the treaty six months after we left." Deanna stood again. "Do you suppose the ensign, the cadet and the lieutenant might have somehow gotten into the middle of a dispute between either the Gorsha or the Ghesha and one of their suppliers? As I recall, the Ghesha get most of their vessels from the Khvesta."

Jean-Luc glanced at the helm. "Follow that cargo vessel."

"Yes, sir," the ensign chirped happily. "Course laid in."

He glanced at Deanna, noting her smile. "You already gave her the course."

"Efficiency is mandatory aboard the _Enterprise_," she replied after making the smile vanish.

He strode up to the helm and looked at the ensign, who jumped when she noticed him. "What's your name?"

"Rachel Manning, sir. Commander Troi assigned me to fill in for Lieutenant Greenman." She smiled up at him. "Sir?"

"Warp seven, Ensign." He strode back to his seat and paused to eye Deanna suspiciously, then sat. "Engage."

Maven sidestepped to stand in front of the counselor's chair. "Sir?"

He glanced from one commander to the other. "You are relieved, Commander Troi."

A mutter from ops as Deanna complied. She smiled and patted Ward's shoulder on her way out. "Don't worry, you can pay me in chocolate."

Jean-Luc waited for the sound of the lift closing behind her. "Is something wrong, Mr. Carlisle?"

"No, sir. Just my own whimsy getting me in trouble. I should know better than to make bets with her by now."

Jean-Luc noticed the hesitation in Maven's stride to the first officer's chair. "And what, pray tell, were you betting on?"

Ward glanced over his shoulder at Maven, red-faced. "That you'd decide to give her a second chance."

"Hmph." Jean-Luc smiled. "I hope she won a lot of chocolate."

~^~^~^~^~

She wanted to tell Tom to just sit down but this was the bridge, and the CMO wasn't assigned to nagging duty. She knew he habitually acted like a caged wildcat under pressure, even self-induced pressure.

"They might still be found on the starbase," she commented. Hopefully they would be. Hopefully, Wes had merely disappeared with Natalia for less than sinister reasons. The thought of her son with Greenman gave her a jolt, similar to the one she'd experienced when Jean-Luc first told her about his sudden liaison with Deanna.

"Within communications range of the _Tenriva Tok_," Rorqual announced. "Sir--sensors are picking up debris. The _Tenriva Tok_ has dropped out of warp, and appears to be maneuvering at impulse."

"Drop us right on top of them. The _Endeavor_ was in pursuit, wasn't she?"

Beverly looked up at Rorqual. The man's thin mustache twitched, and he leaned over the tactical console to gaze balefully at his captain. "The _Endeavor_ is not responding to hails."

"Debris," Tom said, turning to the view screen as the _Venture_ dropped out of warp. One look at the ships that appeared there pulled Beverly to her feet.

"I'll be in sickbay, Captain," she announced as Data called for a red alert. She reached the lift and glanced over her shoulder. Another piece of the _Endeavor_ spun off its hull under the burn of a phaser from the other ship.

She rode down with a churning stomach and fear constricting her throat. She entered sickbay in full stride, her staff turning from various tasks to look at her. "Prepare for casualties," she exclaimed. "Battle in progress."

~^~^~^~^~

"Whoa!" Max shouted as the floor tilted again and send them sliding into a heap against the opposite wall.

Natalia fought out from the tangle of limbs and stumbled to the door. She pressed an ear to it. Through the metal she heard a distant klaxon, shrill and continuous, and another impact. "It's got to be a battle."

"With who?"

Before she could speculate the answer to Khalia's anxious question, the door hissed open. She fell forward, arms out, blinded by the sudden light pouring into her eyes from the corridor. Before she could blink away dancing dots and weird distortions, someone grabbed her and shoved her out of the way.

By the time she got to her feet and shook off the disorientation, the others had also been brought blinking from the dark room. Everyone looked rumpled and bruised from their various altercations and rolling around as the ship pitched. Three armed Gheshavin prodded them down the corridor with no explanation.

Natalia glanced at Wesley, at Max--the ensign reminded her of a former boyfriend, freckle-faced and blond--at Khalia, and then at their captors. Dull green, just like Mekrios, and looking like a cross between an octopus and a grasshopper. Bilateral symmetry didn't happen on Gorshavin, evidently. The symbols painted in glaring orange on their long carapaces were probably rank-related. At the forward end of their bodies were parrot-like beaks.

The floor tilted. Natalia whirled and lashed out with her foot--her toe caught the nearest Gheshavin in the mouth. The weapon flew free from the three handling tentacles and Max dove to catch it as the other Gheshavin fired. Shouting and more tumbling bodies and a blur--Wesley stumbled to her aid and grappled with the second Gheshavin. Crunching noises and heavy breathing were drowned out by the resumption of the klaxon she'd heard earlier.

When it was over, six bodies lay on the deck plates. The klaxon cut out abruptly, leaving deafening silence. Max struggled to his feet as Natalia picked a weapon from the slack tentacles of a gasping Gheshavin. "Khalia," he gasped.

And Wes, and Nico. The Gorshavin, Mekrios, cowered in a heap on the floor further down the corridor. She stuck a toe under Nico and rolled him, grimacing at the burns and charred flesh stench. Stepping over him, she caught Khalia's arm as the cadet stirred and moaned. A bump on the head from careening into the wall. Natalia propped her against the wall and went to Wes, sprawled among their former captors. A wayward shot had singed his leg and he bled from a head injury, but he was still alive.

"Khalia, arm yourself and stay with Wes. Max and I are going for the bridge."

"But--" Max swallowed, his eyes wide and his face pale. "Yes, ma'am."

~^~^~^~^~

Red alert sounded and went silent as they dropped out of warp. Four ships appeared on the view screen. Jean-Luc stood and turned to his security chief.

"The _Endeavor_ is breaking up. Escape pods are within sensor range but still retreating." deLio paused, then nodded to himself. "The _Tenriva Tok_ is keeping the fourth vessel between it and the _Venture_. Heavy damage to their hull, but they appear to have summoned reinforcements. The larger vessel is also of Khvestallan origin."

"Let's get around them and see if we can't put a tractor beam on the _Tenriva Tok_ while _Venture_ keeps the other ship occupied."

"Sir," Ward exclaimed. "The _Tenriva Tok_ is firing on the bigger ship!"

On the view screen, the small cargo vessel appeared, arcing over the top of the larger ship and firing down at it. _Venture_ angled in from the side and caught it in a tractor beam, pulling it away as the other ship spun about and made a run for it.

"I think I have an explanation, sir," deLio announced, his amused tone making Jean-Luc turn completely around in surprise. The L'norim tapped his board.

"--fine," Natalia's voice exclaimed over what sounded like a minor explosion. "You don't have to yank us apart! Sir!"

"Greenman, what's going on?" Glendenning sounded exasperated.

"We're losing the aft engine!" an unfamiliar voice shouted.

"Stop screaming, Ensign! Could anyone please beam us off this thing? We have injured people all over the place."

"Stand down red alert," Jean-Luc said, crossing his arms. "It sounds like we're a little late to the party."

"What took you so long, Jean-Luc?" Tom exclaimed. On the viewer the cargo vessel was released from the tractor beam.

Jean-Luc shook his head. Twenty-five minutes had elapsed since they'd left the starbase. "Lieutenant, did you find who you were looking for?"

"And then some. The real cause of all this, Nico, is dead. He got caught in the crossfire when we took down the Gheshavin. We've got some bumps and bruises but the other five victims are fine. We've got some customers for the brig at gunpoint."

"Commander, coordinate with the _Venture_ for retrieval of our officer and get a full report. You have the bridge."

"Aye, sir."

He shot Maven a glance and she smiled faintly in return as she rose. "And don't let Tom provoke you," he added, heading for the lift.

"I heard that," Tom called over the open comm link. "Your brig or mine, Commander?"

~^~^~^~^~

Beverly waited impatiently, trying to appear patient, and finally the doors parted to admit a security officer carrying the leading edge of a stretcher. She guided her staff in moving her son to a biobed and began diagnostics, hoping no one noticed her trembling hands.

Wesley looked too much like his father. Even the gash on his head was in approximately the same location as the one she had seen on Jack's body in the morgue years ago. But life signs were strong and stable, Wes wasn't in real danger, there was only the gash, bruises and scrapes and torn clothing, and now his eyes opened and an arm twitched.

"Wes," she breathed, leaning over him with a smile. "Wes, it's all right. You'll be fine."

His startled eyes focused on her face. "Mom -- what about the others? Natalia--"

"All fine. She's probably on the _Enterprise_ by now. Just relax, let us finish putting you back together. Myers, take care of her," she said as another stretcher arrived with a woman in rumpled civvies on it.

Wes watched the action in the next bed while she tended his injuries. "Hey, Khalia," he called softly. "Good job back there."

The woman turned her head and smiled, her teeth white in her dark face. "Thanks. Where's the lieutenant?"

"On her ship, I guess. Sounds like the whole fleet came after us."

"Both of you, quiet." Beverly knitted the gash slowly until it turned into reddened, unbroken skin and wiped excess blood from the surrounding skin and hair.

"I'm fine, Mom," he murmured, startling the nurse helping her.

"You're in a lot of trouble. Disappearing for years, and suddenly popping up just in time to get shanghaied--thank you, Selvet, I can handle it from here."

The nurse raised an eyebrow and went to the other patient. Wes shifted restlessly and watched her roll up his sleeve and work on the bruises there. "I'm sorry--especially since things have changed so much since the last time I saw you. Mom, what happened between you and Captain Picard?"

"Nothing. That should be fairly obvious, if the lieutenant told you anything about him."

"No, I mean--" He sat up, careful not to pull his arm out from under the regenerator. "I mean, what happened? You can't tell me you didn't have any feelings for him. I know better."

She yanked up his other sleeve. More bruises. "I used to, that's true, but it's been a long time. Things change. Relationships come and go--some never even really happen. We're still good friends, all of us, and I won't tell you that wasn't difficult, but we are." She looked up into his eyes, smiling, moving her thumb to turn off the regenerator. "Will's going to be so surprised when you show up at his bachelor party. And you just wait--Deanna had the cutest baby ever. Since you were born, anyway."

"Aw, Mom," he complained, blushing.

"How did you manage to bruise this way?"

"Rolling around in a hold during evasive maneuvers, I guess. Who's Commander--dang. It's not going to be easy not to do that. Who is he marrying?"

"Christabel Sumners. She's in his medical department. If he ever gets another ship, that is. Deanna did some serious damage to his last one."

Wes gaped.

"It's a long story. I'll let someone else tell it. As usual, I was mostly stuck in sickbay or trailing along after captains who don't have the sense to stay out of trouble."

"I resemble that remark."

She turned to find Tom standing behind her. He'd come in with the next stretcher, which had a Gheshavin or Gorshavin on it--there was no obvious difference between them. "Captain, this is my son, Wesley. Am I to assume we're done with recovery?"

"No assumptions, Doc. Data's got everything under control. Nice to finally make your acquaintance, Mr. Crusher." Tom smiled lazily and stuck out a hand.

"Captain Glendenning, I presume." Wes took his hand and grinned, glancing at his mother. "I hear you're a decent dancer."

"Pay no attention to that upstart lieutenant," Tom exclaimed. "She's a nuisance and a blabbermouth."

"Natalia's a good officer."

"Right," Tom said, smirking. "I'm sure that's what you appreciate most about her, hm?"

Wes blinked. "Right. I'm sure that's what you appreciate the most about my mom, too."

Tom's smirk worsened, his head tilting as he considered her. "Naw, I think I like the way she blushes best."

"Not in sickbay, Tom. Out."

"We're on our way back to the starbase, by the way," he said over his shoulder as he turned. "Bring the kid home when you're done."

"I'll think about it." She glared until the doors closed behind him, and felt her face getting hot again as she turned to find Wes grinning down at her.

"I like him."

Beverly snatched up her regenerator and tricorder. "You've got a cracked rib, too. Take off the shirt and jacket."

~^~^~^~^~

Natalia left sickbay feeling much better, stretching as she walked to ease the muscles over her rib cage where a lot of the doctor's attention had focused. She made her next stop her quarters, and after a shower and new uniform she hesitated. Maven had confined her to quarters. Officially she was still supposed to be there, but the captain had instructed Maven to get a full report from her.

Well. In absence of specific orders, she'd wait. She sat on her bed, thought about her little adventure, and grinned. This would make a great story.

"Maven to Greenman. Report to my office."

Not your office, she thought. "Aye, sir."

Maven stood up and came around the desk as Natalia entered the room and stood at attention. "Lieutenant," she said by way of greeting.

"Sir."

Maven actually smiled, a forced one, but it was more than Natalia had seen her do since she'd come aboard. "I owe you an apology. I should have taken your experience seriously."

Natalia glanced at the bare desk and walls. Commander Troi had removed her sparse decor when Maven came aboard. Not that she ever really spent much time in here--Deanna always spent most of her time walking the decks, on the bridge, or talking to crew in their departments rather than pulling them up to deck two.

"I understand why," Natalia said. "You were only acting as you believed was appropriate."

"No," Maven said. Pressing her lips together, she laid a hand on the desk beside her and raised her head slightly. "I was not. Captain Picard put you in a position of responsibility on the bridge, and your record shows no prior incidence of foolishness. Quite the opposite. I made an unfounded assumption and believed the evidence at hand proved it. I should have investigated further before making a decision. I hope that this will not affect our working relationship in the next few months, as I intend to pay more attention from now on."

"Thank you for apologizing, sir. I think, however, that it will probably affect our working relationship." Natalia waited for the reaction; only a slight flaring of the nostrils and minute flicker of the eyes, giving away at least a little anxiety. "Most likely for the better."

Maven's smile returned, only more genuine. "I believe it will."

Natalia took the hand she offered and shook it firmly. "If I may, sir, I believe I am supposed to be on duty?"

"The shift's been covered. You can have the rest of the day off--not doctor's orders, but from his report I thought you might benefit from the rest. After you make that report--I don't have time right now to hear it first hand, I have escape pods to recover and what's left of the _Endeavor_ to prepare for towing. I'll review your report later. You are dismissed, Lieutenant."

"Sir."

Once clear of the doors, Natalia grinned. "Computer, location of Captain Picard?"

"Captain Picard is in his quarters."

She moved toward the lift. "Greenman to Picard."

She was two decks down by the time he responded. "Lieutenant," he exclaimed. A little out of breath, she thought.

"I'd like to make an appointment to discuss something with you, sir."

"What--" Muffled background noise seemed to distract him. "Natalia, what do you want?"

"I've been thinking about security--I'd like to get your opinion of some ideas I have."

"Security. . . . Nat, what are you talking about?"

"Well, sir, after talking to Mr. Crusher, I've come to the conclusion that it would be best for all of us if you never left the ship. That would circumvent precarious situations in shuttles and--"

"Lieutenant! Don't you have anything better to do?"

"Sorry to have bothered you, sir. Greenman out."

She grinned all the way to her quarters to change back into civvies. Wesley owed her a drink when they got back to the starbase.

~^~^~^~^~

"As it turns out, the real goal all along was to kidnap the trader." Jean-Luc paused for a sip of the drink Will had just given him. "The assorted unlucky people were ones who blundered across the trap they set for him."

"But why use a woman pretending to be wounded?" Victoria asked, leaning back in her chair. As had the others gathered beneath the shady old oak tree, she'd been listening raptly to his repetition of Natalia's report, garnished with those of the other people involved.

"Maybe because she spent time with him beforehand. That may have been her idea--her way of not directly involving herself in the kidnapping. If things went wrong, she didn't want her fingerprints found on a hypo, or a weapon." Will straddled the chair and sat back, drink balanced on his thigh. "And because she was with him earlier, he'd be likely to stop even if only out of curiosity."

"Well, this has all been very exciting," Helen exclaimed. The holodeck-generated breeze stirred the billowing blue skirt she wore. "Seeing a space battle--your sister will be so jealous."

Victoria exchanged glances with Christopher, the tow-headed brother who'd been with Will when the alert happened. "Chris is, too. Stuck on a space station while everyone else is out sightseeing." She had been in Ten Forward with the others, at Deanna's suggestion.

"I don't mind so much. I got a tour of a Klingon warbird."

"That's not so unique. The rest of us are going on one tomorrow," Bell said, tucking her skirt over her folded legs. She sat on a blanket on the grass with Lora and Beverly and a platter of finger food.

"What will happen to the Gorshben?" Victoria asked.

Jean-Luc smiled. "Their government disavowed all knowledge of them and will be sending a ship to take them into custody. In the meantime, they're clinging to the walls in our brig. They may not be Federation members, but there is a treaty in place and they do conduct limited trade in our space. They can't legally obtain any technology they could use to further their war, but it's suspected that Nico was providing them with weapons and shield generators. His ship was searched and the crew questioned. There was a Starfleet-built shield generator in one of the holds." He didn't add that the situation was more complicated than that, and the presence of the larger ship had to be a sign of more solid support than any band of renegades might have. _Venture_ had interrupted as the _Tenriva Tok_ had been about to enter a docking bay. And there was still the mystery of why they had wanted Nico in the first place. The prisoners weren't saying anything, however, and dead men told no tales. The quivering Mekrios had claimed no knowledge of anything to do with the _Tenriva Tok_ and that he'd been captured while investigating the presence of a Gheshevin vessel at the starbase.

"Did you know Tom has a Gheshevin ensign?" Beverly added. "Zhezwinn. He's one of our transporter attendants. I think he's a political refugee."

"Where's Wesley?" Will asked. "It's about time he showed up."

Beverly munched on a carrot thoughtfully. Jean-Luc knew it was a stall--she'd been quiet about Wesley, other than to share the news that he'd arrived. "I don't know," she said at last.

Will sat up, obviously realizing something was amiss from her subdued manner. "Everything all right here on the _Venture_?"

"The last I knew, he took off with Tom."

"Oh, dear," Jean-Luc muttered in spite of his better judgement. She glared across the circle of chairs at him. "I'm only thinking he'll be a bad influence on Tom. Just think of all the things Wes could tell him."

Beverly's popped open wide. "Oh--my -- "

"Wes wouldn't do that to you," Will crooned. "He's your only child, he'd never do anything to deliberately embarrass you."

Helen, Victoria and Christopher all looked at Bell. She glanced around, growing more wary, and finally blurted, "What?"

"Yes, what?" Will's grin got completely out of control.

Bell's chin hung helplessly until she recovered some of her wits. "Nothing, just some stupid thing I did when I was a toddler -- "

"You were eight years old," Helen said firmly.

"--it was Chris' fault!" She pointed at her brother.

Chris held up his hands. "I got there after it happened, I only saw the pictures on the news afterward."

"Don't look at me either, I was an innocent bystander," Victoria exclaimed. "A very wet and angry one."

The holodeck doors opened with the usual pneumatic hiss and growl. Deanna came in with the baby. And Natalia, grinning suspiciously, still in uniform. Probably just come off duty.

"I saw Counselor Graves to his quarters and turned him over to Maven for a tour. She seemed the least problematic choice. Ward would have started off with silly anecdotes and deLio is. . . deLio. Though the counselor appears nearly as solemn as a L'norim." She took the empty chair at Jean-Luc's left and held up Yves. "Look, it's Papa."

Yves giggled wildly and bounced his arms, showing gums. She'd put him in a red snap-up with a silly-looking cartoon dog on the front.

"He's so cute," Helen sighed. "I need another grandchild." Bell shot her an anxious glance.

"Who is Counselor Graves?" Beverly asked.

"It's time for the annual psychological profile of the Command Experiment," Deanna said. "He'll review Counselor Davidson's assessment, interview the senior staff, a random sampling of junior officers, and then each of us."

"Damned nuisance. Sorry," Jean-Luc added as Beverly covered Lora's ears.

"I suppose it's futile, but I try. Lora, tell him what he said wrong."

"You aren't supposed to swear. I'm just a little kid," Lora announced flatly. "You're being a bad influence. Can I hold the baby?"

Deanna gestured her over and helped her get a good grip on Yves. She swayed but managed to stay standing with the armful of baby, Yves' head on her shoulder. "Grownups are funny," she told him. "You just wait 'til you hear all the rules. There's all kinds of words kids aren't supposed to say that they can, and there's places we can't go, and you know what's really unfair is they won't tell you what you really wanna know. So if you wanna know anything you ask me. I even know what sex is."

"Oh--" Jean-Luc stopped the instant Deanna's glare hit him. "Darn."

"Lora, I think he's a little too young to understand what you're saying." Deanna held out her arms to take him back.

"That's okay, I'll remind him later." Lora dashed off to get the ball she and Bell had been tossing around earlier.

"She's a chip off the old block," Will said, laughing. "Tom's off to a good start with her."

"At least she's interested in learning," Beverly said. "She's into everything, asks questions about everything, and wants to follow us everywhere. The whole crew has taken turns explaining how things work. In another week or so she'll probably be able to run engineering."

"That's better than getting drunk and staying out all night," Jean-Luc said. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the eyebrow. "Not that I know anything about that."

"Yves, your papa's lying."

Yves burbled and laughed. And Natalia still stood to one side grinning, Jean-Luc realized, turning to glare at her. "What are you looming around that way for?"

Lora ran up the hill. "Natty, come play ball," she cried.

Natalia loped off with her, laughing out loud. Yves laughed again; Deanna had him propped up in the crook of her arm as if he were sitting up on her lap.

"Natalia's not babysitting for us any more. She's a bad influence," Jean-Luc exclaimed. "She's probably why he keeps laughing at me."

"Stop being such a grouch. Nat won a bet because of you, that's all. And you know full well the baby isn't laughing because of anything anyone does, he's just happy."

"What bet?" Bell asked.

"She bet Wes she could get away with teasing him. He had to buy her a drink. Numerous ones, evidently, she looked a little tipsy when I saw her last night." Deanna smiled until Jean-Luc's resolve to be angry crumbled, which only made her show dimples. "She's right, if you just stayed aboard the ship all the time we probably would see a remarkable decrease in harrowing shuttle incidents."

Will laughed again. "He does have a bad record. Don't you?"

It didn't help that Beverly chimed in. "Wes remembers at least two times he was along for the ride. Especially the one where you got trapped in the cave and he had to--"

"I thought we were here to relax. I certainly don't find this conversation relaxing," Jean-Luc exclaimed.

"And the one where the _Enterprise_ was trapped in a time anomaly caused by a malfunctioning singularity in the engine of a Romulan ship," Deanna put in. "I remember that one quite vividly. One of the many times he left the ship and disaster struck. And the time he returned with Data to find the crew de-evolving."

Helen and her children stared wide-eyed. "De-evolving?" Bell said, suspicious of the word choice.

"Yes, Will reverted to his natural state," Deanna said, grinning. Yves laughed again and tried to suck on her thumb, which was handy as she steadied him in his upright position. She reached for the bag hanging at her side. "Someone's ready for lunch."

"Ribbit," Will countered. Deanna threw a wadded-up diaper at him.

Not liking the memory of discovering Deanna's altered state, Jean-Luc caught Deanna's eye as she prepared to feed their son. She sensed his discomfort and lowered her eyes, faint regret tinging her expression. "We've been through a lot of things together. It hasn't always been amusing, or even tolerable."

"At least we got through it all," Beverly said, taking up the serious tone. "A miracle. Sometimes I was convinced we wouldn't make it."

"We made our own miracles," Jean-Luc said, watching Yves smile up at Deanna around the nipple. She smiled at him, tossing her hair back from her face as well as she could without a free hand, and he blinked. "You cut your hair."

"You just noticed? Really," she chided, tossing her head again.

"You did it today. It wasn't like that this morning."

"Please tell me he doesn't pay that much attention," Bell said. She popped a carrot in her mouth. "Something suspicious about a man who notices things."

"I prefer selective recognition. Ignore weight gain and wrinkles, notice hairstyle changes and new clothes." Beverly fell back and propped her calf on her knee, dangling a sandal from her toes. She stretched like a cat and put her arms under her head, pulling the sleeveless green shirt tight over her breasts.

A wadded diaper struck Jean-Luc in the back of the head. "Hey!"

"Stop it."

"I wasn't--" He subsided under the weight of her accusing eyes. "Much. It's her fault."

"Wasn't what?" Beverly asked, shoving herself up on her elbows. "Whose fault?"

"Never mind," Jean-Luc said at the same time as Deanna. He eyed her; she pursed her lips and paid more attention to Yves.

"They're just eerie," Beverly said, glancing at Bell. And doing a double-take. "What's going on?"

"Oh, nothing." Bell edged away from her. She gave Jean-Luc a sly look. "All's fair in voyeurism."

"This is so much like being at one of our family reunions," Helen said, chuckling.

"Did you ever find a dress for the wedding?" Deanna asked.

Fortunately, the topic kept the women busy for a while. Jean-Luc accepted custody of the baby after his feeding. Yves lay in his lap gazing steadily at his face, and in a pause in conversation he laughed and made Jean-Luc smile whether he wanted to or not. A tap on the nose made the baby blink and laugh again.

He realized, after a third tap on the baby's nose, that everyone had stopped talking and were watching him. Glancing around, he saw the amused smiles fade everywhere he looked. Deanna did the opposite, lights dancing in her eyes and head tilting.

"Amy," she said firmly.

"No, Cordelia."

"Only if you take your turn carrying her to term. Amy."

He sighed, shaking his head at Yves, who smiled and burbled. "An example of how not to win an argument with a woman. I hope you're paying attention, this takes a long time to figure out."

"I hope he's not paying attention--the things you've been telling him!" Deanna stood up and brushed off her skirt unnecessarily, adjusting the diaper bag on her shoulder.

Jean-Luc took the cue and stood as well, holding the baby to one shoulder. "I always tell him the truth. I have to be in the habit by the time he's a teenager--he'll be able to tell when I'm exaggerating."

"He doesn't need to be Betazoid to tell. Your lip twitches," she exclaimed.

"It does not!" He followed her, catching up and putting his free arm around her waist.

"It always twitches. Everyone knows that. It's how Natalia knows when you're kidding."

"I don't 'kid,' and I resent any implication to the contrary." The holodeck doors appeared as they approached a grove of elm trees.

"I've been telling you for years, a sense of humor goes a long way to improve your relationship with the crew. Mother's right, you need to lighten up."

"You told me you never agree with her. You lied to me," he exclaimed, hesitating on the threshold of the open doors. "For your information, I requisitioned a sense of humor!"

"How long has it been backordered?" she asked over her shoulder.

He followed her out in the corridor. "Foul! You were supposed to let me win this one!"

"I changed the rules."

He heard the laughter behind them as the doors shut. "And you rescued me from the ritual of endless wedding anecdotes. Thank you. I thought Bell's mother didn't approve of Will," he commented on the way to the transporter room. "She seems to like him well enough."

"I'm not certain, but I think Bell talked her around to her way of thinking."

"Or she went shopping with your mother?"

Deanna took his arm. "Who told you?" she asked wearily.

"Beverly. I'm surprised at you."

"It was Mother's idea, actually. She said she learned from you." One eyebrow rose as she gave him a sidelong glance.

"I have no idea what she's talking about."

Luckily, they met Wes and Tom going the other direction as they rounded a corner. "Leaving so soon?" Tom asked.

"You're late," Jean-Luc said. "Which made everyone speculate who was being a bad influence on whom. Where've you been?"

"Wes and I went over to see Worf. Who is, I might add, on his way to our shindig as well."

"We've been talking about the bachelor party tomorrow night," Wes added.

"Why don't you come for breakfast tomorrow morning? I'll make Natalia give you the tour of the ship. She should know it well enough, after scrubbing most of it with her toothbrush."

"Why do you all say things like that about her?" Wes eyed Tom. "First you, now Captain Picard."

"It's a running joke between the captain and Natalia," Deanna explained. "You should ask her about the handbook."

"I told you, I don't joke. I wish you would stop spreading such vicious rumors."

"If you would only take my advice and develop a sense of humor--"

Jean-Luc stepped around Wes and Tom. "Don't be ridiculous. I have a reputation to maintain. Junior officers are supposed to respect the captain."

Yves laughed in his ear. He turned to find Deanna's hand falling away from the baby's face.

"Stop that! Bad Betazoid!"

"Come on, old man, it's your turn to buy me dinner."

"We're not eating Argelian again," he exclaimed as she stepped around into his arm again and walked with him, his hand resting on her hip.

"Oh, and I just bought another lighter, too," Deanna deadpanned.

He halted and looked down his nose at her.

"Sorry. I was out of material. You win this round by default."

Jean-Luc glanced back at Tom and Wes. Both of them hurried off the other way, grinning and chuckling.

"I think you've found your style. It seems to have a broad appeal." Deanna smiled and reached up to tap the baby's nose.

"What would you like to eat?" They made progress toward the lift and when it opened, Worf stepped out and halted squarely in the way, surprised.

"Captain. Commander."

Jean-Luc looked down at the open-necked gray shirt and darker-gray pants he wore. "I told you, you don't have to use rank, Worf. I'm not even in uniform."

"Did you work out the details of the bachelor party?" Deanna asked.

He sighed heavily. "I am having second thoughts about being best man. I understood that part of my duty was to facilitate such rituals as the bachelor party and the reception--after discussing the bachelor party with Captain Glendenning and Wesley, I am not certain that I know enough about planning these things."

"Will asked you to do it because you're a close friend. I don't think he expects you to execute these parties yourself--Tom is helping you, and I can help with the reception," Deanna said.

"But I do not understand the reason for having a woman remove her clothing at a party for someone who is marrying another woman," Worf exclaimed, frustrated with his lack of understanding.

Deanna opened, then closed, her mouth. She moaned and put a hand to her forehead. Jean-Luc shifted the baby's weight and said, "Worf, it's a tradition but it's not absolutely necessary for that to happen, and certainly Tom means well, but. . . it's not a very considerate thing to do unless Will is the sort of person who. . . ." He turned to Deanna.

"We'll talk to Tom, tomorrow," she said, putting a hand on Worf's arm. "I'll contact you and we can meet for lunch, and I'll do my best to help you plan for the reception. I'm sure you remember ours?"

"I have been to receptions for weddings. They have all been different."

"This is all so last minute. I'm sure they'll be happy with whatever we can do. Everyone is in holodeck four." Deanna smiled reassuringly. "We're taking the baby home to put him down for a nap. I'll see you tomorrow?"

In the lift, on the way to the transporter room, Jean-Luc thought about the wedding and sighed. "I have a bad feeling about this."

"I know. It doesn't help that Mother's here. They're too polite to exclude her. And if Homn brings that damned gong, I swear I'll -- " She stopped open-mouthed. "Oh, poor Will," she sighed, exhaling. "Poor Bell."

"I suppose I should be grateful. Tom didn't ask you to be the stripper."

"Don't speak too soon. And who knows, he may ask you."

They fell silent, contemplating. Yves wiggled in Jean-Luc's arm and laughed. Exchanging a smile as the lift stopped, Jean-Luc put his hand in the small of her back and leaned close to her ear.

"Cordelia."

"Maybe," she replied, slipping her arm around him and walking in step with him into the transporter room, where Zhezwinn waited to beam them back to the _Enterprise_.


End file.
